


A Luke and Vader Entree, with a Side Salad of Piett

by tagandtaylor



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Gen, I Watched Too Much Grey's Anatomy, In This House We Stan Piett, M/M, Mild Language, One Shot Collection, Sad Ending, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 151,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24242983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tagandtaylor/pseuds/tagandtaylor
Summary: Obligatory book of oneshots and drabbles with Luke and Vader, and a side of our favorite Admiral. The first chapter is a table of contents, to help you all along! I’d love any prompts or ideas you have!Happy reading! <3Last Chapter:After the death of Palpatine, there's a peace treaty between the Rebel Alliance and the Empire. Set post-ESB, but Luke, Leia, and Han never go to Bespin.Current Chapter:Luke is a pop singer. Vader spectates, and a course of events no one could have foreseen changes their lives forever. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS IN THE NOTE
Relationships: Firmus Piett & Darth Vader, Firmus Piett & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker & Han Solo, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Luke Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker & Han Solo, Luke Skywalker & Maximilian Veers, Luke Skywalker & Zevulon Veers, Luke Skywalker/Zevulon Veers, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader
Comments: 615
Kudos: 486





	1. Table of Contents <3

Chapter 2.) [The Truth About the Brain] 

Luke Skywalker, a soon-to-be neurosurgeon at Alliance Memorial Hospital, just wants life to get back to normal after the death of his mentor. But Luke is a Skywalker, and so his life can never be that easy. Soon enough, Luke is faced with uncertainty when he is informed that his hospital will merge with another, more... fearsome hospital. Imperial Hospital is known for its strict regulations and high expectations. The second in command of the hospital is known for being harsh, judgmental, and can kill a person's career with the snap of his fingers. Because of this, Luke has no ambition to meet the esteemed Doctor Vader, even though he's the best neurosurgeon in the world. But when Luke is asked to show the Doctor and his staff around Alliance Memorial Hospital... well, let's just say he learned more than he ever thought he could've from the famous surgeon.

Chapter 3.) [Admiral Piett and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Vacation] 

When Admiral Firmus Piett is coerced into taking a vacation, he doesn't believe anything good can come from the experience. But when he hears a couple of pirates talking about a certain Luke Skywalker in a bar, everything changes.

Chapter 4.) [A Little Something In Common]  
The classic Luke is captured and needs Vader's help Au (set three months after ESB) in which Zev and Luke tug on their father's heart strings, Vader and Veers are soon-to-be-in-laws, and Piett just wants all these idiots off his bridge.

Chapter 5.) [Coffee, College, and Calamity]

College!AU with Vader being an Idiot Professor, Luke being a Confused Cinnabon, Zev being a Flirtatious Fan, and Ahsoka laughing in the background. Also there's coffee!

Chapter 6.) [A New Beginning]

When Darth Vader arrives on Naboo to kill King Luke Pura, there's something oddly... familiar about the boy. Little does he know, King Luke holds a secret that will change the way Vader views the galaxy.

Chapter 7.) [For George Floyd]

When a black man is killed by a police officer, protests break out across the country. Luke, the son of the Vice President, pushes himself right into the thick of things. _Written in memory of George Floyd_

Chapter 8.) [Good Soldiers Follow Orders]

When Darth Vader's son, Luke Skywalker, decides to run for King of Naboo, a Sith Lord worries, another schemes, Piett is silently suffering in the corner, and Veers is laughing at his friend's ever-suffering eyes.

Chapter 9.) [The Truth About the Heart]

A part 2 of the original surgery au, in which Luke unwillingly defects to Imperial Hospital, Zev is a flirt, Vader is jealous, Piett is a Tired Uncle, and Padme might not be as dead as she seems.

Chapter 10.) [The Babysitter Saga: Part 1/2]

Petty Officer Firmus Piett just wanted to get his job done and go home. He never meant to save Darth Vader's son, never meant to get transferred to the SSD _Devastator_ , never meant to be a glorified babysitter for the literal sithspawn otherwise known as Luke Skywalker. But apparently, that's his life now. Dammit, Veers, it's not funny!

Chapter 11.) [The Babysitter Saga: 2/2]

The second part of the chapter above!

Chapter 12.) [Ding-Dong-Ditchers and Souvenir Pictures (Violet)]

When Luke Skywalker ding-dong-ditches a creepy house during a school trip, he's met with new friends, a father, and... oh. Well, not a mother. Who the hell killed Padme Amidala?!?!

Chapter 13.) [Space Horses (but not in space)]

When Luke Skywalker attends a riding competition/fundraiser at the Imperial Center, an esteemed equestrian stable known for it's pageantry and harsh stable manager, he certainly doesn't expect to win. With the help of a secretive, dark riding coach, though, he might do just that. Also, eff you, Galen.

Chapter 14.) [Losing Wisdom]

Luke get's his Wisdom Teeth taken out, a few months after the events of ESB. Vader, of course, shows up at an inopportune moment. Cue drugged post-surgery Luke being carried around by a Scary Sith

Chapter 15.) [The Shuttle Crash]

When Firmus Piett arrives on the second Death Star to check on everyone's favorite Sith Lord, he comes across Luke Skywalker, a near-dead Lord Vader, and, of course, treason. Of course, he takes Skywalker, Vader, and treason on a shuttle that (what were you expecting) crashed on the moon of Endor. It's been a long day, and honestly, Piett just want's to get back to the Executor. But, of course, fate has other plans.

Chapter 16.) [Xanadu]

Luke goes on a mission on the Executor. He's supposed to infiltrate the computer system to gain the Rebellion access to all of the Empire's transmissions. He ends up winning a bet and making Admiral Piett nearly have a breakdown on the bridge. So, just your average Tuesday!

Chapter 17.) [A Situation]

Vader figures out who Leia is on the Death Star. He thinks she should use the Force. She disagrees.

Chapter 18.) [Of Course (Falu)]

The Force enjoys Yeeting our favorite Imperials through space. Luke and Zev have a not-so-private chit-chat about boundaries and dad jokes. And, of course, Luke is captured on his birthday

Chapter 19.) [Treason]

When Luke saves Vader from a TIE fighter crash, he doesn't expect to be dragged around a forest for hours with a cyborg-Sith Lord. Still, it's what he gets.

Chapter 19.) [Conspiracy Theories and Peace Treaties]

After the death of Palpatine, there's a peace treaty between the Rebel Alliance and the Empire. Set post-ESB, but Luke, Leia, and Han never go to Bespin.

Chapter 20.) [Stay That Way]

Luke is a pop singer. Vader spectates, and a course of events no one could have foreseen changes their lives forever. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS IN THE NOTE


	2. The Truth About the Brain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT IMPORTANT IMPORTANT. In this oneshot, Luke mentions a man who attempted to rape him. It does not get graphic or too in detail. This part is in bold print, so if these events are triggering to you, please skip it. I don't want my readers to be hurt by my writings, and I don't want you to hurt others because of it. If you have a serious issue with how the scene was written, check my more in-depth explanation at the end of the chapter. If you still have issues, leave a comment and I'll do my best to fix it. If needed, I can cut the scene entirely. I like this oneshot the way it is written, but please don't hesitate to tell me if I did something completely terrible. It won't hurt my feelings, so don't worry. I can take it. 
> 
> Also, some lingo you might need to know: an attending is basically the only person in the hospital (other than nurses) who knows what they're doing completely. Residents are a step below that and are still learning. Interns are still on or have just finished med school and are tiny surgeon babies.

The Star Wars Surgeon AU that hopefully hasn't been done before

Luke Skywalker walked into the cafeteria of the Alliance Memorial Hospital, and made a beeline for a table in the back of the room. 

“Hey, guys!” Luke called to Leia and Han as he slid into a seat beside them. The hospital cafeteria was bustling with people, and there was a palpable feeling of dread lingering in the air. “What's the deal with everyone?”

“Apparently there's some hotshot neurosurgeon coming to replace Kenobi,” Han said, rolling his eyes. “Everyone’s afraid of this guy, cause he supposedly tortures interns and residents.”

“Tortures?” Luke asked, trying to ignore the pain he felt at the mention of his ex-mentor.

“It’s Darth Vader,” Leia told him, pausing to take a bite of her sandwich. 

Luke gaped. “ _The_ Darth Vader?”

Doctor Darth Vader was the second in command and most well-known surgeon of the Imperial Hospital, the Alliance’s rival. His surgical skills compiled with his dark aura, fear-inducing stature, and the fact that one of his hands was a prosthetic made him a legend to all med students and aspiring surgeons. It was widely known that he had incredibly high expectations of all of his insubordinates and if you didn't reach those expectations… Vader can ruin a residents career with a snap of his fingers. 

He was known to fire those who made even the smallest of infractions, and the only person who had been able to avoid this occurrence was his current assistant, Firmus Piett. 

“Why is he coming here?” Luke exclaimed. “He works for our rivals, remember?” 

Leia nodded. “Rumor has it, good ol’ Palpie Pie wants to merge with the Alliance. Vader and his staff are here to scope out the talent. If the merge doesn't go through, they’ll try to recruit our best attendings and residents.”

Luke groaned. “Mon Mothma will never go for a merge,” he said. “We all remember when the Imperial and Republic merged. We all heard about the massive job losses. No way will she let that happen to us… right?”

“She better not,” Leia shrugged. “Either way, I'm in the clear. She wouldn't let me go, even if we merge.”

“Well, obviously, princess,” Han said. “You’re a future Cardio God, remember? You’re basically the most promising soon-to-be heart surgeon in the world.”

“I wouldn't say that.”

“Yeah, you are, Leia,” Luke laughed. “Han, you should be safe too. John Hopkins has been sending you letters since you were an intern. Out of the three of us, I'm the one with the most to lose in the event of a merge.” 

It was true. The old neurosurgeon had taken Luke under his wing, but when old Ben Kenobi passed away because of a car crash, Luke lost the attending who would’ve gone to bat for him. And… well, Vader didn't seem like the kind of person who would support him.

“I'm sure you'll be fine,” Leia reassured him.

“The princess is right,” Han shrugged. “Leia’s a Cardio God, but you’re a Neuro Master. We should be fine.”

“But what if we’re not?” Luke muttered.

“Hey, you said it yourself, Mon Mothma would never go for a merge,” Leia assured him. “We’ll be fine.”

Han nodded, and Luke sighed. “So when is Vader getting here, anyway?”

“I heard that he’s coming next Monday, and staying until Friday.”

“Great,” Han said. “Well, let’s enjoy our freedom while we have it. God knows we’ll be living in fear by Monday.”

_____________

Han was right. They _were_ living in fear by Monday... but in all reality the constant fear started even before Monday. In reality... it started on Sunday. Everywhere Luke went that day, interns and residents alike were talking about Darth Vader. He couldn't escape it!

“Hey, Luke,” Wedge ran up to him one day in the hall. “Could we talk? It's urgent.”

Luke nodded, and asked, “Is it a patient?”

Wedge chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually… it's about Vader.”

“Dammit, Wedge, you too? I don't want to hear it.”

Before he could walk away, Wedge snagged Luke’s arm and pulled him into an on-call room. “Look, Luke-”

“Wedge, the on-call rooms are for sleeping on-duty, not gossip,” Luke said. “And I told you, I don't want to hear it. There might not even be a merge, so-”

“But if there is, you gotta vouch for me, man,” Wedge demanded.

“Vouch for you? Wedge, I could lose my job too.”

“Yeah, but you won't. I mean, you’re the best neuro resident we have. If Vader will keep anyone, it'll be you.”

“I don't think it’s Vader’s choice.”

“Of course it’s Vader’s choice. Look, Luke, you’re smart, a great soon-to-be neurosurgeon, and one of the only genuinely nice people here. Vader will like you!”

“Vader doesn't like anyone.”

“But he won't dislike you!”

“Look, Wedge, if by some magical chance Vader doesn't hate me, and we actually do merge _(which we won't)_ , then of course I will stand by you. But I can't make any promises because chances are, we won't merge and Vader won't like me.”

With that, Luke shook his friends hand off his arm and stormed out of the on-call room. He stomped down the hall, and as he was turning a corner he walked directly into a man in army-green scrubs, a contrast to Alliance’s standard orange scrubs. 

The papers the man was holding dropped to the floor, and Luke groaned. “Shit!” he exclaimed. “Sir, I am so sorry. Let me get those for you.”

Luke bent down and picked up the papers. The man quickly leant down to help him. “It’s alright,” he said. “Thank you for helping.”

Luke smiled up at him. “It’s no problem! I'm Luke, by the way.”

The man nodded back. “Firmus Piett.”

Luke frowned, placing the stray papers into the man’s hands. “That’s odd. I could've sworn I've heard that name before.”

Firmus raised an eyebrow, and stood back up. “Really? My name isn't all that common.”

Luke frowned, standing alongside him. “Piett… where have I heard that?”

His pager beeped loudly, jerking him out of his thoughts. 

“Oh, I gotta go!” he exclaimed hurriedly. “It was nice meeting you, Firmus!”

Luke raced off down the hall, leaving a befuddled man with hundreds of papers to sort in his wake.

________

“Did you hear?” Leia asked in a hushed tone as they sat down together at lunch. “Vader’s assistant came today.”

Luke froze. “What?” 

“Vader sent him ahead to get his patient files in order for the week he’ll be here.”

“Oh no. Oh nononononono-”

“What's wrong, kid?”

“I crashed into a guy today. He said his name was Firmus Piett, and I told him I knew that name, but wasn't sure where I heard it from.”

Leia and Han cringed in unison, and Luke groaned, dropping his head on the cafeteria table. 

“You… you ran into Vader’s favorite assistant?”

Luke scowled. “What is that guy’s job anyway? Glorified secretary?”

“Not exactly,” Han laughed. “Vader gets annoyed when interns handle his case files so he has Piett do it. He also helps Vader in the Operation Room.”

“He gets to assist Vader in the O.R.?” Luke exclaimed. “Whenever he wants?”

“Dream job, right?” Leia laughed. “Mothma told me that when Piett isn't scrubbing in on Vader’s surgeries or taking care of his case files, he’s a Cardio God.”

Luke gaped. “Neuro-abilities and part time Cardio God?! That's just unfair. And Firmus probably hates me now!”

“Did you apologize?”

“Yeah. I also picked up his papers, but… Imps hold grudges.”

Leia snorted. ‘Imp’ was the title given to every doctor from Imperial Hospital. The nurses were all called ‘stormtroopers’ because of their obnoxious white and black scrubs. 

“I'm sure you’ll be fine, Luke.”

“I hope so,” he muttered. “I hope so.”

“Well, on a happier subject…” Leia said, launching into an explanation of the open heart surgery she had just scrubbed in on.

Luke and Han sat back and listened. While Han was an aspiring pediatric surgeon and Luke was focused on neurosurgery, they still sat through one another’s stories. You never know what situation you have to be prepared for.

That could not have been made clearer to Luke the next day. 

_______

The halls of Alliance Memorial Hospital were buzzing with emotions ranging from excitement to trepidation. Today was Monday. Darth Vader and his staff would be arriving today. Residents and interns were sick with worry, and the attendings were ready to see an esteemed neurosurgeon in action. 

Luke was ready for the week to be over. 

For the past few days, all anyone would talk about was Vader. Vader this, Vader that, Luke couldn't get a break. More than a few people had demanded that he tell Vader good things about them, and others said that it was unfair that he would get a better shot at gaining Vader’s respect than they would. 

Yes, Luke was definitely ready for the week to be over. 

So when Mon Mothma called him to her office the hour before Vader arrived, Luke was already in a foul mood. 

“You called for me,” he asked as he stepped into her office. 

She looked up from her desk and beamed. “Luke! Yes, I did. Please, take a seat.”

Luke tentatively sat in the chair across from the Head of Surgery’s desk. “What did you need, ma’am?”

Mothma smiled nervously. “You're the most promising resident we have, Skywalker. In regards to neurosurgery, that is. Why wouldn't I want to speak with you?”

“Does this have something to do with Vader?” Luke asked, dread building up inside him. 

“Yes, it does. I'm aware that your shift ends at ten o’clock, today?”

Luke nodded. He was already counting down the minutes until his 48-hour long shaft was finished. With Vader around, an obvious threat to his carrier, he didn't want to spend more time in the hospital than necessary. 

“What does that have to do with Vader?” he asked.

“As you know, there have been rumors floating around about a merge with Imperial Hospital,” Mon Mothma said. “I'm sure you won't tell anyone what I am about to tell you… right, Dr. Skywalker?”

“Um, of course.”

“These rumors, while unwarranted… do have an ounce of truthfulness to them.”

Luke gaped. “We’re merging? If you brought me here to fire me, I-”

“Take a breath, Doctor. You will not lose your job,” Mon Mothma said. “In fact, no one will.”

“What?!” Luke exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “We all saw the bloodbath that occurred with the Imperial-Republic merge! How can you say that we won't lose our jobs?”

“Take a seat, doctor,” Mon Mothma said. “We are keeping both hospitals open. We will work collectively together, under the same set of rules and regulations, but our Board of Advisors will join together. Our budget will join with theirs, as will the ownership of our equipment and buildings. Your contract will not be changed. With the plan that me and CEO Palpatine have laid out, no one should lose anything.”

“Does that mean Palpatine owns our hospital now?” Luke asked, still standing. 

“The papers have not gone through yet… but yes.”

“So Vader will own it when Palpatine passes?”

“Unless Mr. Palpatine has children between then and now, yes.”

Luke gaped, slowly dropping into his seat. The idea of the infamous Darth Vader owning his safe place, the one place he values more than anything made him so nauseous he couldn't see straight. 

“How could you do this?”

“Doctor Skywalker, please, this doesn't change anything-”

“It changes everything!” Luke exclaimed. “Our hospital is a safe, good, learning environment. Darth Vader and all the other Imps will ruin that!”

“Doctor. Skywalker,” Mothma ground out. “I brought you here because you were the one resident I could trust to make this easier for the others. You _will_ support this merge. Your interns and fellow residents will need a shoulder to lean on, and you _will_ be that shoulder. Do you understand me?”

Luke shook his head. “Why me? Why not Leia? She's your mentee!” 

Mothma sighed. “Doctor Organa is a good woman, but she tends to jump to conclusions and react harshly when faced with circumstances she does not agree with. Much like you just did.”

Luke winced. “What would this… ‘shoulder to lean on’ thing entail?”

Motham smiled. “I'm glad you’re coming around. Just listen to your residents and interns about their thoughts, and reassure them that it will be okay.”

Luke slumped, and crossed his arms. “I do that already. I'd do it regardless of whether or not you told me to.”

“You also need to help support the Imperial residents and interns that will come here.”

Luke frowned. “I thought you said nothing would change.”

“There will be more Imperial doctors transferring to our hospital. And some of our Alliance doctors will go to their hospital.”

“They do things differently there! We can't send our doctors to-”

“Many doctors from the Imperial Hospital have the same beliefs about their upcoming transfer to our hospital.”

“But… but…”

“I informed Doctor Vader that you are the best resident here who specializes in neurosurgery. I also told him that you support the merge wholeheartedly and were ready to help in the adjustment period. Do I need to retract that statement.”

Luke glared at her. “No. But I don't appreciate this. Even if you didn't ask, I would’ve helped my friends deal with this. And I will not pretend to be okay with the fact that you’re sending our doctors away. But… I will help the newcomers… adjust.”

Mothma beamed, ignoring Luke’s clear distaste for the situation. “Excellent! I'll let CEO Palpatine know.”

Luke frowned, and sat back. “How much do I have to interact with Vader?”

“Well, you should be there to greet him and his staff. Of course, you should give them a tour of the hospital, and assist him with any cases he requires. You are aware of all the neuro patients, correct?” 

“Yes, ma’am, I've been looking after them since Doctor Kenobi... left.”

“You performed an emergency surgery on one of them, did you not?”

Luke nodded. “That patient is still in the recovery phase. I do not believe they need another surgery.”

“Not to my knowledge, no,” Mon Mothma said. “But if you wish, you should tell Doctor Vader about what occurred that day. You were quite the hero.”

Luke blushed. “Uh, I don't think that that’s necessary.”

“Very well. Regardless, you should check in on all the neuro patients and ensure that there haven't been any complications. You can get through all the patients you can before Vader arrives.”

“What about my interns?” Luke asked. 

“Surely you can watch over them, still?”

“Sure. I'm guessing I'm not supposed to tell anyone about this.”

“Only if you're certain that they won't spread the word. Doctor Vader and I will publicly announce the merge on Friday.”

Luke nodded, and stood up. “I need to check on my patients.”

Right before he walked out the door, Mothma called out to him. “Luke, wait.”

“Yes, ma’am?” he asked tiredly. Honestly, he thought, I'm just a broke resident who’s still paying off med school loans. I do not need more stress right now.

“I don't believe I need to tell you about Doctor Vader’s… angry tendencies.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Do not invoke his anger, Luke. You're a bright surgeon, with a real future ahead. Don't throw that away.”

And with that worrisome note, Luke left to check on his patients.

__________

“Well, Luke, here it comes,” Han said, tossing an arm around Luke’s shoulders. They glanced up at the helicopter that was flying towards the landing pad of the hospital.

“Doesn't coming on a helicopter seem a bit… extra?” Luke mumbled.

Leia laughed. “Extra is Vader’s middle name.”

Luke gave her a loo, before shrugging Han’s arm off his shoulder and stepping away from the duo. “I should go stand by Mothma,” he said. “She basically ordered me to babysit him.”

“Hey,” Leia said, grabbing his arm. “When you talked to her, did she say anything about the merge?”

Luke glanced at Han, and said, “Our shift ends at the same time tonight. We should talk then!”

He turned and walked through the crowd of surgical residents and attendings to Mon Mothma. 

“Are you ready, Doctor Skywalker?” she shouted over the sound of the helicopter blades.

Luke’s hair flipped around in the wind. “As I'll ever be,” he hollered back.

The helicopter landed, and the blades finally slowed down. The door of the helicopter opened, and the small man that Luke had bumped into yesterday hopped out. He stepped to the side, and another man, this one much taller, stepped out of the vehicle. His hair was dark blonde, and speckled with grey hairs. Sure enough, one hand was a prosthetic that probably cost more than Luke’s med school tuition.

There was no doubt in his mind; this was Doctor Darth Vader. 

Behind the doctor, another man stepped out of the helicopter. This man was relatively tall, and looked like an army doctor. Mothma stepped forward to greet the trio, and Luke hurried after her. 

“Doctor Vader,” she nodded to the sandy haired man. “Doctor Piett. Doctor Veers.”

Veers and Piett smiled in greeting, but Vader just said briskly, “I believe you had a hospital to show us?”

Mothma was set back by the obvious change of subject, but she quickly recovered. “Of course. Doctor Skywalker should be able to help you through that.”

Vader glared, turning his head to Luke. “Skywalker?”

Luke swallowed nervously, but stood up straight and smiled. “Yes, sir. I'm the oldest neurosurgery resident in the building.”

“Who are your superiors?” Veers asked.

“Currently, we do not have a Head of Neurosurgery,” he replied smoothly. “Our only attending is out on a three-month long service in Africa, working for a nonprofit organization.”

“Then who exactly is directing you, young one?” Vader ground out. 

“We have called several consults and are currently searching for a new attending.”

“Mothma,” Piett said, turning to the doctor. “You don't have a neurosurgeon at your hospital?”

The chief of surgery raised an eyebrow. “Just two weeks ago, our Head Neurosurgeon was quite literally decapitated by a seatbelt in a car crash. Our other attending left three days before that. We have not had time to find another attending.”

Nor the need, her eyes said, as she stared at Vader.

The man growled, before walking past the woman and towards the exit of the landing pad. “Tour, Skywalker.”

Luke gaped at the man, who was shrouded in black scrubs, as he walked away. Veers and Piett quickly followed him, and it took Mothma tapping Luke on the shoulder for him to realize that he should be too.

“Oh!” Luke exclaimed, running after the trio of Imperial doctors. 

When he caught up, Vader turned to him and gestured to the staircase. “The tour, Skywalker?”

Luke nodded, and motioned for the group to follow him. 

“So, obviously, we’re on the top floor now,” he said as they walked down the stairs. “The hospital has 23 floors in total. 11 of those are dedicated to surgery. We have 9 floors of operation rooms, and each floor is designated for a different type of surgery. The 22nd floor is for neurosurgery. The 21st for cardio, 20th for general surgery, and so on.”

He took them down and around every floor of surgery, until finally they arrived on floor 9. 

“This is the floor where we keep patients who have just completed surgery and are in the recovery phase. Many patients-”

“Code blue, code blue!” screamed a voice from one of the patients rooms. Luke glanced at the number on the door, and his jaw dropped.

“Shit,” he exclaimed. “I have to!”

He raced past the Imperial doctors and hurried into the room. “Move it, that’s my patient!”

The doctors stepped back at the EMT pumped the man’s chest. 

“Paddles!” Luke exclaimed. “We need the paddles, now.”

Thankfully, a team with defibrillators stepped into the room at that moment. “Charge to 300,” Luke said. “C’mon. Come on!”

The Imperials watched at Luke managed to restart the patient's heart. “That boy is…” Veers trailed off, thinking of something to say.

“I know,” Piett chuckled. “Luke is very sweet, actually. When I was here yesterday he was on-call, and bumped into me at one point. Of course, he apologized profusely and picked up all the papers for me. Then, he was paged, swore, and ran away.”

Vader narrowed his eyebrows. “Luke?” 

Piett flinched at Vader’s dangerous tone. “That’s how he introduced himself.”

Vader stared at the boy as he fussed over his patient. “Luke Skywalker…” 

Veers and Piett exchanged a confused glance but Vader didn't explain his fascination with the boy. 

“You said you saw him yesterday, Doctor Piett?” Vader asked.

“Yes, sir. I believe it is customary for the Alliance to administer 48-hour shifts. We do the same.”

“That child needs rest.”

Veers and Piett glanced at one another again, confused. “Well, he certainly is young for a resident,” Veers observed. “He can't be more than 21.”

“He's 22 years old,” Vader said with absolute certainty. 

Veers looked like he was going to ask how Vader knew, but Piett quickly elbowed him in the side with a shake of his head. This was how Vader acted when he had a patient with an uncommon illness. You didn't disagree or challenge him when he speaks like this. That was just common knowledge.

So, the three doctors stood in silence, waiting for their tour guide to finish with his patient.

After a few minutes, Luke stepped out of the room and glanced at the Imperials with a sigh. “I'm too tired for this,” he muttered to himself, before waltzing over to the Imperials with a forced smile. 

“My apologies,” he said. “They’re sending my patient to get an MRI, because I believe that this could be a complication of a prior surgery. It’s around… 12 o’clock, and these tests will take a while, so if you'd like we could get lunch from the cafeteria while I wait, and I could find Mon Mothma and take my leave of you.”

Veers and Piett nodded, but Vader said, “I would like to look over these tests with you, doctor. Clearly you need a consultation.”

Luke bristled, but nodded and walked the Imperials to the cafeteria. They stood in line and ordered their food, ignoring the whispers and glances from the doctors and nurses surrounding them. 

When he got his food, Luke hesitated for a moment, glancing at Han and Leia, who motioned for him to come and sit with them. 

“Come, Luke,” Vader sighed. 

Luke’s head swiveled towards him. “When did I tell you my first name?” 

Luke followed Vader, Veers, and Piett to a table closest to the door. They set their trays down and each took a seat. Luke stared at Vader, waiting for an answer. Surprisingly, it was Piett who replied. 

“That would be my fault,” Piett smiled. “I mentioned your name in passing, before I realized that no one knew. My apologies.”

“Oh! Uh, it's alright. In hindsight, I don't know why I thought you guys wouldn't know my name. Mon Mothma said she told you… wait, what did she tell you?”

Vader sighed. “Your Head of Surgery informed me that I would be accompanied by the best neurosurgical resident of your little hospital.”

_“LITTLE H-”_

“Of course, if she told me your name, I would not have been so clueless to think that you would be irrelevant to me.”

“Irrelevant?!” 

“Hush, young one.”

_(It would be prudent to inform you that, at this time, Veers was taking a sip of the ginger ale he had gotten at the counter. He had a light stomach ache, and ginger ale always helped him when his guts were queasy.)_

“I'm 22!”

_(At this point, Doctor Veers snorted the ginger ale out of his nose and onto Piett’s food. Of course, neither Vader or Luke noticed this, but Piett certainly did.)_

“Young for a surgical residency, isn't it?” Vader asked. 

“I skipped a couple grades as a kid. Why do you care?”

“Luke!” an intern ran up to the table. Vader glared at the boy, but Luke sighed, and nodded.

“What is it, Dak?”

“The test results are in for Terry Weissler. The patient who coded earlier.”

“I know who Terry Weissler is,” Luke said, disgust clear in his voice. He stood up, leaving his tray on the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to-”

“I will come with you,” Vader stood. 

Luke forced a smile. “Of course. Dak, if you could show Veers and Piett to Mon Mothma’s office, that would be amazing.”

“Got it, Luke,” the intern said nervously. 

“And Dak?”

“Yeah?” the intern muttered. 

Luke smiled, knowing that Dak was worried about his job and future. “It'll be alright,” Luke said, squeezing his shoulder.

Dak beamed at him. “Really?”

Luke nodded, and Dak brightened. “Thanks, Luke!”

He shrugged, and beckoned Vader to follow him. “Do you remember which floor the test results go to?”

Vader raised an eyebrow. “Don't you?”

“Of course.”

Vader chuckled. “The top floor. 23.”

Luke pushed the button for the elevator and smiled. “Correct! You get an A plus.”

“A plus?”

“Alliance Memorial Hospital is a teaching hospital. You learned!”

“More than you know, young one,” Vader said. “More than you know.”

Luke frowned, and decided to change the subject. “So, why did you become a surgeon?”

“I was an army doctor for years. Then, I was in a plane crash that cost me... more than just my arm. I decided to change my life around, and became invested in the field of neurosurgery. What about you, little one?”

“I'm hardly little,” Luke said, “and for me it was about my father. He was an army doctor too, actually. Coincidentally, he died in a plane crash.”

“Indeed? What was his name?”

“Anakin. Anakin Skywalker,” Luke said. “Did you know him?”

“I did, in fact. That was how I recognized your name.”

Luke gaped. “You knew my father? How did--what was… who… what?!?!”

“I will tell you more later, young one. In a more… private setting. For now, we must tend to your patient’s test results.”

The elevator dinged, and Luke stared at the door. Vader walked briskly out of the elevator, and Luke jogged to keep up with his long-legged walk. 

“Wait, I need to know more. Did you know him? Were you on that plane with him when he died? Did you know my mother? Please, no one can even tell me her name! I need to know.”

Vader froze. “You do not know your mother’s name?” 

Luke shook his head, hurrying to stand in front of the doctor. “No. I mean, I know that a lot of the time, army guys don't always stick around. I'm not the only orphan from my town, I know what some mothers are like-”

“You think that your mother was just some common whore, picked up off the side of the street? Or that your father would stoop to that level and-”

“The first one to tell me my father was more than a random guy named Anakin Skywalker was Obi-Wan Kenobi, and he isn't exactly around anymore to talk.”

“Did Kenobi not tell you about your mother?” Vader asked thunderously. 

“I didn't ask!”

“Did you not care to-”

“Of course I did! But I'm from a seedy, grungy town called Tatooine, and I don't know if you’re familiar, but the people there aren't exactly model citizens.”

“I know exactly what kind of people reside in that town,” Vader growled. 

“Then can you blame me for not knowing if my mother was… was…” 

Luke trailed off, and was stunned by the silence in the hall. Normally, this wing of the hospital was buzzing with activity. But when he looked away from Vader, and glanced at the doctors and nurses lining the hall, he realized that everyone was staring at the two of them.

Vader glared at them, and they immediately looked away and began doing their jobs. Luke sighed, and Vader crossed his arms. 

“I cannot blame you for the knowledge you were raised with, young one,” Vader said gently. “I apologize. Your mother was… a friend of mine. Her name was Padme Amidala. Your father… he loved her with all of his heart and then some.”

Luke exhaled slowly. “Thank you.”

“It was your right to know. Now, I believe we have test results to view?”

Luke nodded. “Sure we do.”

_______________

“I don't understand,” Luke said. “He has cancer?”

Vader nodded grimly. “Indeed. The tumor is resting-”

“On his brain stem, I can see that, but… he just had surgery two weeks ago, and this tumor wasn't causing problems. Now it could make him die?” 

“Some types of cancer are incredibly fast moving,” Vader shrugged. “What wouldn't have been seen on an MRI one week can kill a person in the next seven days.”

“But--he… we have to operate.”

“The tumor is wrapped around his brain stem. It is inoperable.”

“No, there has to be a way! We can go in from the back of his neck-”

“And risk severing his nerves and tendons?”

“Then cut at the back of his head-”

“And risk cutting his brain in order to operate on the brain stem?”

“We have to save him!”

“Luke, it is impossible.”

“It has to be possible! It has to be.”

“Why are you so determined to save this man?”

“So he can rot in prison for the rest of his life!”

Vader frowned. “What?” 

Luke sighed, and sat down in a chair. “Can you close the door?”

**Vader shut the thin wooden door, and stared at Luke. “What is the story of this man?”**

**Luke sighed, and stood up. “I was in a bar, and he sat next to me. He seemed nice, and he was kinda cute, so when he ordered me a drink, I took it. But a few minutes later I felt really drowsy. I figured out that he had spiked my drink, and managed to send a quick text to Obi-Wan before I was totally out of it. In hindsight, I don't know why I texted Obi-Wan, specifically, but the next thing I knew I was here. Leia and Han told me that the douchetard tried to kidnap me, and while he was speeding away on the wrong side of the road…”**

**Vader stared at her, clenching his fists together. “Your mentor was in a car crash.”**

**Luke nodded, tears flowing to his eyes. “Obi-Wan was nearly dead by the time I woke up. But on his last dying breath, he told me to save the other driver. Said that he could rot in prison, but that I made an oath and I was the only qualified neurologist in the building at the time to operate. So, I…”**

**“So emergency solo surgery that Mothma mentioned,” Vader ground out, “was on the man who attempted to rape and kidnap you, and killed your mentor as a result.”**

**Luke flinched. “I haven't talked about it. Leia and Han have tried, but… I have to save him so I can slap him and send him to jail.”**

**Vader glared. “That man deserves to die for what he did-”**

**“I agree,” Luke said. “But I can forgive him. I have to forgive him. And I made an oath to always do what I can for anyone, no matter how terrible, and rotten, and dreadful they are. So I have to save him.”**

**Vader stared at him, shaking his head. “You are entirely too forgiving, young one,” he said.**

**“I haven't forgiven him yet,” Luke said. “I don't think I ever will. But I'm going to save his life if it's the last thing I do.”**

___________________

Vader vigorously scrubbed his hands, the surgical mask tight against his face. He couldn't believe what he was about to do.

“I know you already said no, but-”

“No, Luke,” Vader sighed. “You cannot perform the surgery.”

“I didn't ask to perform it,” said his wayward son, stepping into the scrubbing room. “I just need to be there. To assist.”

“I have that covered, Skywalker,” Piett said from his place next to Vader. 

“Don't worry,” Veers said. “Piett and Vader know what they’re doing.” 

“I don't doubt their abilities, but I need to do this myself.”

Leia Organa walked past the room, stopping when she saw Luke inside. 

“Luke?” she asked. “Our shift ended five minutes ago, why are you still in your scrubs?”

“It’s Terry, Leia,” Luke said tensely. 

Leia blinked as she realized exactly why her friend was staying late. “Luke, you need to let this go. Even if he dies in the O.R., he deserves it.”

“I know that, Leia!” Luke said. “I just…”

“Come on,” she said. “Han is waiting in the car with Wedge. Terry will be here when we get back.”

“He might not be!” Luke exclaimed.

Leia glanced at Vader and Piett. “Is the observation room open?”

“Yes, but it's filled with residents and interns hoping to look in on the surgery,” Piett said. “I wouldn't recommend watching from there.”

“You may stay in here if you wish,” Vader sighed, “but you cannot and will not interfere with this surgery.”

“I can and will interfere with this surgery,” Luke replied. “You forget that I am and always have been an employee here. You are not my superior yet, and I don't take orders from you. And you know what, Vader? I don't care that you can ruin my career. I don't care. Because I will take part in this surgery, whether you agree with that or not.”

“This is for your own good, young one.”

“I need to do this. I need to.”

Vader and Luke glared at one another. After a minute passed, Vader rolled his eyes.

“You may watch from the back the O.R.”

“I’m helping with the surgery, too,” Luke smiled, turning to wash his hands. 

“No, young one, you will not.”

“Yes. I. Am.”

“No.”

Luke and Vader stared at one another again, the running water filling the room with sound.

“Can I at least stand next to you and watch?”

Veers and Piett shared a knowing look. Surely, Vader would tell him no. After all, no one was able to make the man cave to anything; if Vader didn't want something done, it wasn't done.

Shockingly to them, Vader caved. “Fine. But do not attempt to make a habit of this.”

Luke beamed. “Of course!”

Leia shook her head. “I'm sorry, but is this really the best for you right now, Luke? Your mental health-”

“Is absolutely fine, Leia,” Luke said. “You want me to put this behind me? Then please, Leia, just let me do this.”

Leia hesitated. “Fine, but I'm going in with you.”

Luke nodded, and Vader scoffed. The doctor couldn't help but think that he should be helping Luke through this. He should be comforting his only child. 

But Luke was still unaware of their relationship. Of course, after this surgery aws completed, that situation would be rectified. Vader needed to learn who had raised the child, who was responsible for the lies that had been told to him. But that could wait. Telling Luke was second to nothing. 

Afte Luke and Leia scrubbed their hands, Piett, Vader, Luke, and Leia walked into the O.R. Since it the O.R. was a sterile environment, masks and gloves were placed over Luke and Leia, along with long robes. 

Terry Weissler was unconscious on the table. Vader, for a moment, had pondered the thought of purposefully ruining the surgery in order to end the life of the man that had harmed his son. His bright, kind, considerate, smart son. Who he didn't even know existed. 

In the end, though, Vader knew that he would lose Luke forever if he failed to save Terry Weissler. So, even though he wanted this man dead… he had decided to save him. 

Oh what a mistake that was. 

It had taken all afternoon to come up with a plan to save Terry Weissler. It had taken most of the evening to convince Mon Mothma to allow them to administer the surgery. And the surgery itself was a 4 hour surgery that would take nearly all night. And somehow, Luke had wormed his way past Vader’s steely cold ‘no’, and would be breathing over Vader’s shoulder throughout the surgery. 

Thankfully, though, as soon as he walked into the O.R., Vader was calm, he was focused, and Terry Weissler was laying on his stomach, so Vader wouldn't have to see his dreadful face. 

Vader walked through the beginning steps of the surgery with ease, Piett assisting him from the left, and Luke watching the surgery from the right. Vader could tell that Luke was using every ounce of determination in him to not interfere. 

He is just like his father, Vader thought to himself with pride. Luke looked much like he did, in his youth. He also had many of his mother's features. Her height, her nose, her stubborn will power… although that could have come from Vader as well. 

Luke was definitely his son. Vader suspected that the minute he heard the boy’s last name. He knew for certain when Piett supplied him with the boy’s first name. Luke. The name his mother had chosen for him. She was right, of course. Their baby was a boy. Vader had thought that it was a girl, but she… she knew. She always knew.

Luke. His baby. His only son and heir. No doubt, he would be shocked when he found out that Vader was, in fact, his father. But judging by the eager way Luke had reacted when he was told that Vader knew his father, Luke would be more than overjoyed to know that he had a father. 

At least… Vader hoped so. 

It would be shocking for Luke to learn that his father was alive all this time. Especially to learn that his father was a famous neurosurgeon. Who was a millionaire. And would eventually inherit the hospital Luke worked for. 

Yes, it would be shocking for him. 

Almost as shocking as it was for Vader to learn that his son was alive and kicking it at a rival hospital. That his son was so forgiving and kind that he wanted to save the life of the man who had done unspeakable things to him. 

Vader glanced back at Luke, who was eying the tools in Vader’s hands carefully, watching the surgery with poorly concealed excitement. 

“Have you ever done surgery on a brain stem, young one?” Vader asked. 

After a second, Luke jumped and realized that Vader had addressed him. “Uh, no sir. I was still an intern when the prior attending performed the surgery, and wasn’t allowed to scrub in.”

Vader nodded, concentrating on the different tendons and nerves that were visible in the man’s neck. His glasses were focused to concentrate on small, microscopic pieces of the human body; his brain was used to the stimulation.

“With the brain stem, you have to be exceptionally careful,” he said, searching for the tumor. “It is both difficult to access and difficult to monitor. If you make one wrong move, you can kill a man.”

Luke nodded, but Leia tilted her head. “Isn't that true for all brain surgery?” she asked. 

“Yea,” Luke shrugged, “but it’s much more likely to occur than it would be if… you were operating on the frontal or temporal lobe. I mean, the frontal lobe controls things like problem solving and judgement, and the temporal lobe controls memory. The brainstem regulates basically all of your involuntary movements; breathing, digestion, heartbeat. If you mess up the temporal lobe, you’ll be dealing with memory loss of some kind. If you mess up the brainstem… imagine if you forgot to keep your heart beating.”

Vader swelled with pride. “Skywalker is correct. While brain surgery is dangerous in general, it is much more so when related to the brain stem.”

“Congratulations, Skywalker,” Piett said amusedly. “Coming from Vader, that’s almost praise. 

Luke blushed, and Vader smiled behind his mask. “Indeed, Doctor Piett.”

“So… is your assistant Firmus Piett?” Leia asked, trying to seem casual and failing miserably.

Piett glanced at Leia, confused. “That would be me, yes. Do I know you?”

“No, but is it true that you’re a cardiothoracic surgeon?”

Piett narrowed his eyes. “Yes… why?”

Leia pulled Luke down and whispered something in his ear. Whatever she said caused him to laugh, and say, “Yes, I know. I found out that he was a Cardio God earlier while we were trying to figure out how to do the surgery.”

If Vader could see her mouth, he was sure that it would be gaping open. 

“And you didn't tell me?” she hissed. 

“Uh, this is an incredibly delicate surgery,” Luke mumbled. “We should probably be quiet.”

Vader smirked. “Indeed. I've located the tumor.”

“I see it, too,” Piett nodded. “Should we begin the extraction process?”

“Yes, Doctor. I need it to be completely quiet in here, please.”

Luke and Leia went quiet behind him, and Vader proceeded to extract the tumor that had worked its way around the man’s brain stem. Two hours passed, and the tumor was completely gone. Vader heard a small yawn from behind him, and turned to glance at Luke. 

“Am I boring you, young one?”

Luke shook his head, and said, “No, this is… the most interesting surgery I’ve seen in months.”

“You just finished a 48 hour shift, correct?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Go to sleep. Both of you,” Vader said. 

Luke shook his head again. “No. I'm staying.”

Leia blinked drowsily. “Uh, yeah. Same.”

Vader sighed. “I will not have you two fall asleep in my O.R.”

“We won't,” Luke said. “Promise.”

Leia nodded, and Vader groaned. “Leave. Stay in an on-call room or outside, or something, but I cannot have anyone fall asleep in my O.R.”

Luke and Leia shared a look. “Sorry, dude,” Leia said. “My next shift starts in 5 hours. I need to sleep. I’ll be in an on-call room with Han if you need me.”

Luke crinkled up his nose. “Don't think I don't know what you do with him in there.”

Leia waved. “Ta-ta!” 

Luke watched her leave, and turned back to the surgery, stepping closer to Vader. “I trust you with this,” he said. “Don't think I don't trust you, it isn't that, it’s…” 

“Personal,” Vader finished gently. “Go wait in the hall, young one. I only have to stitch him up, and then we’ll be done. I'll tell you everything as soon as it’s finished.”

Luke gazed at Terry Weissler, and then back up at Vader. “Really, though?” he asked.

Vader snorted. “Indeed, child.”

“Still not a child,” Luke protested, glancing up at the residents in the observation room.

“Even so, young one. Leave.”

Luke shook his head. “I can't.”

“You must. Now go, before you fall asleep on the floor.”

Luke rolled his eyes, and sluggishly walked out of the O.R.

Vader sighed. “You don't have children, do you Doctor Piett?” 

Piett shook his head. “No, sir.”

“And you, Veers?”

“One son, Doctor,” Veers replied from beside Piett. 

Vader sighed. “Doctor Piett is wiser than the both of us, Veers.”

Veers chuckled. “Indeed he is, sir.”

_______________

When Vader walked out of the O.R. half an hour later, he was greeted by the sight of Luke slumped against the wall beside the door. Vader sighed, kneeling down next to him. 

“Young one,” Vader said, shaking his shoulder. “Luke, wake up.”

Slowly, Luke blinked awake. “Mmm, hi Vader,” he murmured. For a second, he was calm, and then he jumped. “OH! Doctor Vader? Sorry for sleeping in the hall, I was just waiting and I fell asleep, I'm so sor-”

“Do not worry, young one. It's nothing.”

Luke frowned. “I'm not young.”

“You’re 22. That's young for a resident, and young for a person.”

“Yeah, whatever. How did the surgery end?”

“There were no complications. We will, of course, be closely monitoring Terry Weissler’s recovery period, but he should be able to go under trial soon.”

Luke exhaled, and slumped back down against the wall. “Oh, thank god.”

“However… there is something we need to speak about. Can we go anywhere more private?”

Luke tilted his head. “Uh, I'd say an on-call room, but a lot of doctors try to sleep around this time… oh! We can use Leia’s office.”

“Her… office?”

“Yeah, she’s lead resident so she has an office. She's in an on-call room now, so her office should be open.”

Sure enough, Leia’s office was empty. Luke flicked the light on, and closed the door behind Vader. “So,” he said. “What do we have to talk about?”

Vader sighed. “You may want to sit down for this, young one.”

Luke’s face morphed into a confused frown, but he sat down on a small couch and shrugged. “Okay, go on.”

Vader sighed, and pulled a chair around to face Luke. He sat down and began telling Luke a story. 

“When I was your age, I was a doctor for the army,” he said. “I was young for a doctor, but I was good at my job. Probably because I had a hell of a good teacher. You know the man, actually.”

“I do?” Luke mumbled.

“Yes,” Vader sighed. “Your old mentor, Obi-Wan Kenobi was my teacher. He trained me well, but one day I had to go on a mission without him. Me and a team of 20 troops were to transport a Queen out of her country, as it was being attacked by Separatists. The Queen and I had gotten married in secret, and we were expecting a child. But… when we entered the airspace of the USA, we were mistaken for an enemy plane and hit with a missile. The plane split in two, and I was separated from my crew and the Queen. My half of the plane landed just outside of a city called Mustafar. I'm… still unaware of where the other plane landed.”

“Wait…” Luke said. “You said you knew my father. But my father was an army doctor and I know he was on that plane. Was he your comrade? Or… or… are you…” 

Vader took a deep breath and continued. “After this, I did not regain consciousness for several days. The only person the hospital informed was Sheev Palpatine; he was my emergency contract. The military decided to inform the public that there were no survivors of this crash. When I heard this, I believed that my wife and unborn child had perished. So… I changed my life. Became a surgeon, left the army behind… I even changed my name.”

“Was… was your old name Anakin Skywalker?” Luke whispered.

Vader took in a deep breath. “Yes. Yes it was.”

Luke sobbed, and threw his arms over Vader’s neck. “Hi, Father,” he cried.

Vader gently pulled his arms around Luke’s back. “Hello, my son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the way Luke was so obsessed with healing Terry may be cause for concern, so let me explain my thoughts; Luke has always been a forgiving little cinnamon roll, right? So, while he might feel emotionally hurt because of this, he still tries to get over the fact that Terry tried to hurt him. What he can't get over it the fact that Terry killed Obi-Wan. And since Obi-Wan made it his dying wish to tell Luke to help Terry, and since Luke took the Hippocratic Oath, he feels obligated to help him. To do this, Luke minimized his feelings and puts other's before himself, which is not ok. Believe me, he and Dad Vader are going to have a talk about Luke's habit of doing dangerous things for his physical and mental health because 'its for the greater good'. But still, it's a habit that's hard to break, and because of Obi-Wan's dying wish and Luke's constant need to help other people no matter what (the movies: vader cuts off luke's hand, luke saves him from the dark side and forgives him), Luke becomes obsessed with his need to help Terry. Of course, he still wants justice, so as soon as Terry is healthy, he'll go on trial and eventually to jail. Of course, from Luke's perspective, he's doing this to cope. And it works. As soon as Vader says that Terry is healthy and will go on trial soon, Luke slumps against the wall because a weight on his shoulders was finally lifted. Obi-Wan's dying wish is fulfilled, and Luke can get Terry in jail and never see him again. That is to say, this coping method works for Luke, but isn't the healthiest thing in the world. He doesn't talk to anyone about his feelings and pushes them down inside of him. If you go through something and are to scared to speak up, please say something. It doesn't make you weak.
> 
> On that note, lets move onto something happier. So, for clarification, Anakin and Padme were separated in the plane crash. The US gov't was unsure of what happened, so they claimed that everyone died. (Years later they found out that the plane was mistaken for an enemy warcraft.) When he heard this, Anakin decided that he didn't want to be Anakin Skywalker without Padme and the child(ren) that he had grown to love. So, he asks Palpatine to pull some strings, and eventually Anakin Skywalker is Darth Vader. Because everyone thinks Anakin is dead, Luke goes to the Lars' and Leia is adopted by Senator Bail Organa. They are split up because it was still unknown why the plane was shot down, and the children of the Queen could be military targets. When it was revealed that the plane crashed accidentally, the twins were already separated and had grown up. The real question is... what happened to their mother? Did she die with the plane? Or is she living in hiding, waiting until the impact of the war fully slows down so she can return to her kingdom? You tell me :p
> 
> Alrighty! I should have the next oneshot out by Friday, I just have to do a couple finishing touches. It's much happier, I promise!! I love you all. Stay healthy and safe. My state (and country for all you non-Americans out there) is still kind of hunkered down, so I hope everyone else is staying safe. Leave a comment if you have a question, or just want to say something sweet. If you have a prompt, even better! 
> 
> -A
> 
> (p.s.: be happy <3)


	3. Admiral Piett and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Admiral Firmus Piett is coerced into taking a vacation, he doesn't believe anything good can come from the experience. But when he hears a couple of pirates talking about a certain Luke Skywalker in a bar, everything changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHH, like a bunch of people read the last one in like a day. I'm glad people are liking it, and I really hope that it's fun to read. Just so you know, this is more focused on the Side Salad of Piett that was offered in the title! :)
> 
> If you don't know Piett too well, I love him so frigging much. He's like 33% stress, 50% anxiety, 7% Imperial and 10% Totally Done With This. I CAN RELATE. Just so you know, there was something weird going on with the whole italics thing, so all thoughts are in ' and all spoken phrases are in "
> 
> Anyways, happy reading!

Admiral Firmus Piett of the Galactic Empire slumped into a seat at a sleazy bar on Axxila, and waved to the bartender. 

“One Corellian whiskey, please,” he sighed. 

The bartender (a pale, blue skinned twi’lek) nodded, and reached for a bottle and glass. “Rough day, mate?” he asked peppily. Vader’s Admiral glared at him, and the bartender laughed nervously. “Alrighty, then, sir,” he mumbled. “One Corelian whiskey.”

He set the drink in front of the Imperial, who nodded his thanks and clenched a hand around the glass. “My apologies, sir,” Piett sighed to the bartender. “It was rude of me to glare at you.”

“It’s alright, mate!” the twi’lek exclaimed, beaming at the Imperial. “Rough week?”

Piett sighed again. “Believe me, you have _no_ idea.”

Another patron beckoned the bartender to their seat, and Piett took a heavy swig of the whiskey. Earlier that week, a bounty hunter had contacted Lord Vader, claiming to have Skywalker and demanding money. Vader, of course, ordered the _Executor_ away from the Emperor’s… _project_ (Piett shivered at the thought of the second Death Star. For once, he _hoped_ the rebels would destroy an Imperial base) and the Super Star Destroyer spent days traveling at lightspeed, heading to an outer rim planet near Axxila. 

Of course, the bounty hunter didn't _truly_ have Skywalker. The boy didn't even look like the famous Jedi! Needless to day, Lord Vader ensured that both the bounty hunter and Not-Skywalker didn't make it off of the _Executor_ alive.

The next day, the ominous man seemed to be fine; he was harsh, of course, but no more so than usual. Three days ago, though, the man’s mood took a turn for the worst. 

Vader had been even more demanding than usual in regards to the search for Skywalker, and he stormed about the ship invoking fear to everyone he passed. Naturally, Piett assumed that it was because of the incident with the bounty hunter that Lord Vader had spent the rest of the week in a foul mood. Oh, he snapped at officers and petrified stormtroopers daily, and Admiral Piett was working overtime--well, more so than usual--to ensure that he and his subordinates kept their necks unbroken.

Needless to say, this was a mostly fruitless endeavor which cost Piett hours of sleep and, evidently, most of his dignity. Why his dignity? Well, Piett had normally survived on five hours of sleep per week--six, if he was lucky. So, when he was unable to get a wink of sleep over the course of 6 days, and all the cups of caf on the _Executor_ couldn't help him, he passed out.

On the bridge.

In front of his troopers, officers, and Lord Vader.

It truly couldn't be more mortifying.

That event led to an increasingly awkward trip to the medbay, which led to an investigation of Piett’s work schedule. Apparently, the fact that Piett hadn’t taken a vacation in 7 years was a cause for concern.

 _‘We’re just trying to get you into the best of shape, Admiral!’_ the medic had said. _‘Seven years of stress and hardly any sleep can’t possibly be good for your health!’_

And so, Piett was forced to take a vacation.

He had decided to visit his sister and nephews on Axxila, who were overjoyed to see him, though his sister was angry that he hadn't visited sooner. When she expressed this anger, the siblings had gotten into an ugly argument that led to Piett leaving her small apartment and seeking refuge from the pouring rain inside a seedy bar next to her home. 

Suffice to say that Piett was _not_ enjoying his vacation. 

The Admiral was pulled from his thoughts when two people slipped into the stools beside him, talking loudly to one another. 

“That dumbass rebel,” one sighed to another. “Who the hell does he think he is? Telling us that he’s a kriffing Jedi Knight. Luke Skywalker my ass!”

The Admiral froze. Rebel… Jedi… Skywalker? Who the hells were these people associating with?

“Shut it, Zeke,” the girl hissed. “You don't know who could be listening!”

“What, do you think there’ll be an _Imperial? **Here?**_ Force, Zara, don't be so paranoid.”

“Imperial or not, I don't think we should advertise the fact that we’re keeping a rebel with weird telepathic abilities in our basement.”

“Well, we’ll turn the brat over eventually! We just need to get some information out of him first.”

“How? By torturing him? Because that worked so well for us this morning. We should just let the kid go! He’s what, 20? He’s got a life to live!”

“Nah, Zara, he gave that away when he joined the rebels. Everyone knows those terrorists have a death wish!”

“We aren't exactly model citizens either,” Zara scoffed. 

“Doesn't matter. We will be, when we turn in this rebel brat. I mean, the kid’s 5’5”, at the most, and he thinks we’ll believe him when he tells us he’s _Luke Kriffing Skywalker?_ ”

“Why did you put that collar on him if you didn't believe it, at least a little?”

“Because that pretty thing sends out an electric current. _Interrogation_ , Sira, remember?”

“Torture, Zeke,” she scowled. “Torture. Besides, what happens if he really is Skywalker? The bounty says _‘Alive and unharmed.’_ The rebel we stole is _definitely_ harmed.”

“He isn't Skywalker. And if he is, we’ll just tell Lord Dark and Dreary that he was messed up when we got him,” the man shrugged. 

Piett tilted his head to glance at the duo. The man was facing away from him, so his only feature visible to Piett was the curly brown hair that nearly hit his shoulders. Over the man’s--Zeke’s--shoulder, Piett could see the woman much clearer. She had long, brown hair that was twisted back into a tight ponytail. Her face was marred with concern and fear as she stared into the man’s eyes.

“Don't call him that!” she exclaimed, glancing around as if Lord Vader would descend down upon them from out of nowhere.

“It’s not like he can hear,” Zeke chuckled. “Lord Metal Mind is _not_ as scary as you’re making him out to be.”

 _Oh, but he is_ , Piett thought. _He is._

“He can _read minds,_ Zeke! What if Skywalker-”

“He’s not Skywalker.”

“-can somehow contact him? I mean, he’s a Jedi, and Vader’s got that whole… mysterious power mumbo-jumbo going on. What if they can-”

“You need to relax,” Zeke rolled his eyes. “This kid isn't Skywalker. And even if he was, he wouldn't call for Vader. You weren't around during the Clone Wars, but I was. Skywalker’s a Jedi, and I'm pretty sure Vader’s a Sith. And believe me, Jedi and Sith don't mix. Besides, the collar I put on the kid keeps him under a low electric current at all times. He wouldn't be able to think about contacting a Sith through that kind of pain.”

The Admiral blinked at that. He had never considered the root of his Lord's powers, just the outcome. But it was true that Lord Vader used many of the techniques and skills shown by Jedi in the Clone wars; he was just a lot more terrifying. If the Second in Command of the Empire was, in fact, a Sith, it could explain why he was so determined to find Skywalker… who probably had a painful collar keeping him tied down. 

Lord Vader was incredibly mystifying when it came to Luke Skywalker. On one hand, he wanted the boy captured, presumably so that he could torture and execute him. On the other hand, he didn't appreciate it when Skywalker’s so called captors harmed him. Once, a trio of bounty hunters nearly delivered the Jedi to Lord Vader, but the boy got away at the last second. When the bounty hunters revealed that they had harmed Skywalker, their deaths were much more painful than many others who had failed before them. 

Piett was pulled away from his musings when Zara said something to her companion, and the duo left the bar. As he watched them walk out the door, the bartender wandered over. 

“Well, that’s odd,” the twi’lek said. “They never ordered a drink.”

Piett dropped a stack of credits on the table, and rushed out the door of the bar. “Keep the change!” he shouted over his shoulder. 

“But the change is enough to pay my college tuition! I can't accept this,” the bartender replied. 

Piett sighed. “Keep it!” he insisted, and hurried after the strangers. If they _did_ have Skywalker, then Piett would be expected to bring the Jedi to Lord Vader. If they didn't, then Piett could bring the rebel to Vader and inform him of what he overheard in the bar. Either way, this excursion sounds ten times better than the nine hells of boredom he was dealing with in that bar. 

Piett followed Zeke and Zara to a large, abandoned apartment complex three blocks away from the bar. The rain had thoroughly soaked through his clothes, and for a moment, Piett regretted his decision. Still, he crept into the building after them, and followed their wet footprints to a staircase. 

When he walked down the stairs, the floorboards creaked, and for one stressful second, Piett was certain that he would be caught. His hand drifted to the blaster at his hip… 

That moment quickly passed. 

Piett snuck behind the duo and glanced into the basement of the building, and all of the regret washed away.

Chained to a wall in the basement was a small man, who looked to be about 5’5” tall. His hair, though caked in dirt and grime, was a honey blonde color that nearly covered his crystal blue eyes. His ankle was twisted at an odd angle, and his obnoxious orange jumpsuit was torn and bloody. Around his neck was a grey collar. This skin surrounding it was red and inflamed. What in the nine Corellian hells was that thing?

For the past month he spent as Vader’s Admiral, and the years spent as his Captain, Piett had meticulously studied every single decimeter of information in Skywalker’s file. He knew the man’s favorite food, his waist size, his height, and had his facial features memorized. Because of this, Piett knew with absolute certainty that the boy in the chair was, in fact, Luke Skywalker. 

“Well, well, well,” Zeke said, stalking over to Skywalker. “What do we have here?”

Skywalker lifted his head to glare up at the man. “I'm not telling you anything. I gave you my name already! That’s enough.”

Zeke scoffed. “You can't possibly believe that we’ll fall for that. Look at you, kid! You’re tiny.”

“I am _not-”_

“I mean, you kind of are,” Zara shrugged. 

Her companion glared at her. “Did I ask you to speak?” he said.

She looked at the ground. “No.” 

“Then don't,” he replied. “Now… Skywalker, was it? Let me tell you one more time. You are going to tell us where your stupid little base is, and then you’re going to give us the location of the Rebel fleet. Do you understand?”

Skywalker shook his head. “It's been three days and I still haven't told you. What makes you think I will now?”

Zeke shrugged. “Third time’s a charm. Ready?”

Piett frowned. _‘Ready for what?’_ he thought.

His question was answered when Zara frowned and pulled a remote out of the bag that had been slung around her shoulder. “I'm really sorry about this,” she said. 

Skywalker smiled sadly. “I know,” he said. “It's not your fault.” She gave him a sad look, and Piett could tell that it was _entirely_ her fault. 

“Gimme that thing,” Zeke scowled, snatching the remote out of her hands. “What are you, going soft?”

Zara flinched, and he rolled his eyes. Piett watched closely as he clicked a button on the remote. 

As he pushed the button, Skywalker closed his eyes and screamed so loudly that Piett couldn't hear the noise of the rainfall outside, or the thunder. Zeke pressed another button, and Skywalker’s screams stopped. He gasped out a quick sob, and Zeke kneeled down next to him with a smirk on his face. In the back of his mind, Piett recalled how Lord Vader had tortured an Imperial who had… ‘interrogated’ Skywalker, and then lost him during a prison break. After all, Zara was right; the bounty _did_ say _‘alive and unharmed.’_

“Are you done, now?” Zeke asked, grabbing the Jedi’s chin and turning his head to look at him. 

“No,” Piett said, quickly setting his blaster to stun and shooting Zeke down. “But you certainly are.”

Zara fumbled for her blaster, but dropped it on the floor. Piett rolled his eyes, and stunned her, too. The Admiral turned to Skywalker, who just blinked at him blankly. 

“Skywalker?” Piett asked hesitantly.

The man smiled softly. “That… would… be me.”

“Where are the keys to your collar?” 

“Don't… know. Wouldn't let… me see.”

Piett glanced around, and his gaze landed on Zara’s bag. He scooped it up off the ground, and emptied its contents to the floor. There was makeup, hair dye, a few scarves, a comm, and a loop of keys inside. He grabbed the keys, and quickly found the one to match the collar. 

Skywalker’s head was down, his eyes staring blankly at his lap. Piett grabbed his hair and lifted his head up so he could unlock the collar around the rebel’s neck. 

The metal collar fell to the floor, and revealed harsh red marks on the boy’s skin. Piett swallowed nervously, and glanced back to the unconscious duo. “What exactly was the point of this?” he asked, lifting the collar up so Skywalker could see. 

Hope left the boy’s eyes. “You’re an Imperial, aren't you?”

Piett just stared at him, and waved the collar in the air. 

Skywalker sighed. “It had this… low electric current or something. It stopped me from being able to access the Force because of the pain. It also helped with their interrogation.”

Piett eyed him warily. “So… can you access the… Force… now?”

He smiled. “Are you asking if I can open these chains and commandeer a ship with just a thought?” he asked jokingly. “If so… yes.”

The Admiral flinched, but Skywalker was quick to ease his fear. 

“Don't worry, though,” he sighed. “They did something to my ankle, and I doubt I could walk now, much less run.”

Piett nodded sharply, and turned away from Skywalker. “I'll need a med pack, to treat your injuries,” he said. “I don't suppose you might know where one would be?”

“I think they lived in an apartment, somewhere upstairs,” he said. “I have a feeling that they might have one there. I know that doesn't help much, considering the fact that there are probably a thousand apartments--”

Piett waved him off, and started towards the stairs. Halfway there, though, he paused and turned back to Skywalker. “You can't walk, so you can't look for things.”

Skywalker glanced down at his ankle, and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“But you can use the… Force. Can it help you find the med pack?” 

Skywalker blinked, unsure. “I mean… maybe? I haven't really had much practice with that, and I don't know if it will work.”

“Can you try, Skywalker?”

“Luke,” the rebel said absently.

Piett raised an eyebrow. “Luke?”

“Just call me Luke.”

“Can you find it… Luke?”

Skywa-- _Luke_ squeezed his eyes shut, and seemed to be concentrating very, very hard. Piett would roll his eyes, but he had served Lord Vader for years, and knew not to doubt the ways of ethereal powers. 

“I-I think I’ve got it,” he said, his eyes still shut. “I don't know the number of the apartment but I could find it if I was looking for it.”

“But you can't walk…” Piett acknowledged. Even if Skywalker could walk, Piett wouldn't let him. He had been through years of Skywalker’s seat-of-the-pants escapes, and Lord Vader’s subsequent breakdowns. He didn't need to deal with another. And after Piett’s first failure at Bespin, he did not believe that Lord Vader would be so lenient yet again.

“I could try to heal myself with the force. It's called a healing trance.”

“And how much experience do you have with _that_?” 

Skywalker grinned bashfully. “Not much.”

“In that case, I'm sure we can find the med pack,” Piett said. He couldn't risk Skywalker’s safety for a magic experiment. Piett stared at the unconscious criminals strewn across the floor and sighed. “I'm going to unchain you,” he told Skywalker. “Can you walk to the door or should I carry you?”

He glanced nervously at his ankle, but stared fiercely up at the Imperial. “I can walk,” he said. “It'll probably be my last chance to walk free, since you’ll be turning me over to Vader.”

He sounded rather put out about it, but his expression showed pure determination. _‘Determined to escape, most likely,_ ’ Piett thought. 

As if he read his mind, Skywalker sighed, “I'm not planning on running.”

Piett immediately put his guard up. “Stay out of my head,” he said sharply.

“I'm not in your head. So far I've respected you enough to stay out of it; I don't need the force to know that you think I'll run. It's obvious. I'd think so too.”

“How can I trust you?”

Skywalker watched him sadly. “How can I trust _you_?”

They stayed silent for a moment, and Skywalker sighed. “Fine. Since you believe I was in your mind, I'll let you know something I thought that I didn't want you to know. I most likely can't walk to the doorway.”

Piett shook his head, and grabbed the keys he had taken from Zara. He unlocked Skywalker’s chains, and looped the Jedi’s arms around his shoulders, dragging him away from the wall towards the doorway. The man let out a small whimper as his ankle was jostled, so Piett slowed down, and lowered him gently against the door jam. Skywalker slid to a sitting position, and Piett eyed him nervously.

“Don't worry,” he said. “I won't leave.”

Piett clearly wasn't convinced. Still, he turned his back on Skywalker and dragged Zara and Zeke to the chains that had held Skywalker. He bound their hands, and used the scarf from Zara’s neck to tie their feet together. 

He turned back to Skywalker, who was staring at his ankle. “If you let me lean on you, I can probably walk-”

Piett rolled his eyes and scooped Skywalker into his arms, carrying him up the stairs. “What is it with you rebels and making your injuries seem like less than they are?” he said.

Skywalker spluttered, “You can't carry me!” 

The Imperial sighed. “Why not?”

“Wh--you're small too!”

“That doesn't mean I'm not strong,” Piett said. The man was used to his strength being underestimated, but Skywalker wasn’t even heavy. The rebels clearly didn't feed their soldiers well enough. 

“Well, of course, but you don't need to--AH!” he exclaimed when his ankle bumped lightly against the wall. Piett frowned, and glanced down at the rebel, concerned. If that light of a hit brought him pain, the ankle injury could be more serious than he thought. His bones could be broken, or shattered. 

“Are you alright, Skywalker?”

“I told you, it’s Luke. Hey, I'm at a disadvantage here! You know my name, and I don't know yours.”

“Firmus Piett,” he said, leaving out his rank, which he usually included when introducing himself to others. He didn't think the rebel would be very pleased if he learned that Piett was Lord Vader’s Admiral.

The rebel froze. “As in… the admiral?”

Piett stopped walking, glancing down at him. Apparently he didn't need to tell Skywalker. “How did you know that?”

“Rebel High Command found out about you a little after Hoth,” Skywalker replied shakily. “We keep tabs on high ranking Imperial officers and when we found out that Vader trusted his new Admiral more than any of his others to this date, we tried to find out more about you. Did you really hunt pirates here on Axxila? Is that why you’re back here?” 

His tone was purely curious, but Piett found himself shocked by the rebel’s statements. “High Command knows about me?” 

“Yeah…” the rebel trailed off. “I think we should take a left here.”

Piett stared at him, dumbfounded. “Oh, you mean-”

“For the medpack, yeah.”

Piett swallowed nervously, tightening his hold on Skywalker. He walked down the hall to his left, and asked, “What exactly did your High Command want to know about me?”

Skywalker frowned. “I'll tell you… if you tell me something, too.”

“I cannot give you any sensitive information-”

“What? No! I mean-I just--I. Ugh. I want to know about Vader.”

Piett felt a fierce protectiveness flare up inside of him. “I won't-”

“You care about him,” Skywalker breathed. “Force. You care!”

Piett swallowed nervously. “I am loyal to my Lord-”

“That's not--I… I'm happy,” Skywalker said. “That someone cares for him. I'm happy. Oh, uh, another left here.”

Piett tilted his head, and walked down the hall to the left. “You actually meant that. You’re glad that I care about him, even though he’s made your life endlessly difficult for the past four years.”

“I know it’s weird,” he said. “But he--I. We…” 

Piett raised an eyebrow, but Skywalker never continued his rambling. “Oddly enough, I don't think I'm the only one here who cares for him,” Piett said, struggling to deal with the fact that he's never admitted his care for the Sith aloud. 

Skywalker visibly flinched at that, clenching his right hand tightly. “It's complicated,” he said. “Take a right here.”

Piett turned to the right, and asked, “What are your intentions for Lord Vader?”

The rebel tilted his head. “What are yours?”

Piett stayed silent for a moment, until he replied, “I am loyal to my Lord, and will follow any and all orders he gives me. My loyalty to him is second only to that of my ship, which is, of course, unrivaled. While sometimes my Lord has high expectations, they are not unachievable. That is more than many can say about their commanding officers.”

The rebel didn’t speak, and slowly digested that information. “In my opinion…” he said carefully, “sometimes Vader’s actions leave much to be desired. But in his heart… there is good in him. There has to be. He wants what’s best for the galaxy, but…” Skywalker paused, and then sighed, letting his head fall on Piett’s shoulder. “You realize that I'm only telling you this because I'm overtired and was just vigorously tortured, right? Why, Admiral, you’re practically taking advantage of me. Vader would be appalled.”

Piett snorted. “You realize that I know when you’re joking, right?”

He could practically feel Skywalker’s smile. “As far as Imps go, you’re not half bad. So… wanna make a bargain?”

“I don't bargain with terrorists,” Piett said. 

“Just pretend I'm not a terrorist,” Skywalker said. “I'll pretend that you’re not an Imp.”

Piett sighed. “What do you want from this bargain?”

Skywalker’s smile widened. “I'll tell you what our High Command knows about you, and you tell me what Vader knows about me.”

Piett raised an eyebrow. “How would we benefit from this?”

“In all honesty, I'd tell you regardless of whether or not you tell me anything. Because High Command doesn't just know about you, they learned about your family, and while I don't think they’d do anything against them, you deserve to know.”

The second the word _‘family’_ left Skywalker's mouth, Piett stopped in his tracks. “What do they know about my family?”

The rebel frowned in sympathy. “They know you have a sister and two nephews on Axxila. They know that they live in an apartment near some bar that I forget the name of. They know that your nephews are just kids, and one of them goes to the Imperial Academy. Your niece, though, is a lot older than them, and she doesn't live on Axxila. They don't know much about her, which I'm sure is a relief, but they know even more about you. Your career, how you met Vader, your friendly rivalry with General Veers…” 

Piett turned pale. “They know where my family lives?” 

“I would suggest getting them off the planet, or even just out of this city,” Skywalker said. “The alliance doesn't have many spies on planets closer to Coruscant, because of the heavy Imperial presence.”

“My sister can barely afford a two bedroom apartment on Axxila. You think she can afford rent on Coruscant?”

“Okay, Firmus, don't panic,” the Jedi said. “I'm assuming you send her money?”

“Yes, but-”

“I'll work it out for you.”

“What?”

“You’re Vader’s Admiral?”

Confused, he nodded. 

“Then I can do something for you,” he said. “I promise you, I won't let your family be hurt. I'd like to think that the rebellion wouldn't, but… we’re at war. And I know it will calm your heart to see them safer, so… I'll talk to Vader about it. Trust me, okay?”

“I doubt you talking to Vader would get us anywhere,” Piett said absently. “I need to get them out of here. I need to-”

“Piett!” Skywalker exclaimed. “There's a reason Lord Vader wanted me alive and unharmed. Besides, from what I've heard, he trusts you. Probably even likes you. Believe me, that combined with me asking will ensure your family’s safety. I can convince Vader to help out. Honest!”

Piett scoffed. “How can you be so sure?”

“Honestly,” Skywalker laughed humorously, “I'm not. But I have a lot of hope, and right now that’s the best we’ve got. Oh, and the med pack should be somewhere down the next corridor, on the right.”

Piett stared at him, duty and family warring in his mind. Eventually, he turned, and walked to the corridor on the right. Skywalker didn't say a word. 

“You wanted to know what Lord Vader knows about you, Commander?” Piett asked. 

Skywalker glanced up at him hopefully. “Yeah…” 

“He knows your height, weight, and all of your other physical attributes, including your measurements. He knows where you grew up, your relatives names, and the name of your childhood best friend. He knows about your squadron, your close friends, your favorite food, your favorite color, and many, many other things that seemingly have nothing whatsoever to do with your capture.”

Skywalker nodded, slowly taking it in. “He knows…”

“A lot,” Piett sighed. “So, of course, I had to learn a lot as well. But the one thing I could never understand was how you got to the Rebellion. One day, you're a moisture farmer on Tatooine, which is as far into the Outer Rim as you can be, and the next you’re blowing up the Death Star.”

Skywalker smiled sadly. “The story of how I got to the Alliance isn't a happy one. I doubt you’d want to hear it, Admiral.”

“If it could give me some insight into the enigma that is Luke Skywalker…” 

“You don't seem like the type to pry, Admiral,” he observed. 

“Normally I'm not,” Piett sighed. 

“This one.”

“I'm sorry?”

“This apartment. I think there’s a med pack inside.”

Piett glanced at the door beside him. He supposed the best way to open it would be to let Skywalker down, but the rebel didn't seem to think so. With a wave of his gloved-hand, the door swung open. Piett glanced down at the rebel, who just shrugged. 

“I didn't want you to have to kick the door down,” he said. “It could hurt _your_ ankle, and then we’d both be out of luck.”

Piett held back a chuckle, and walked into the dusty apartment building. It was a studio apartment, so there was only one room, but that didn't make it any less disgusting. The walls were infested with mold, and the floor was dusty and scuffed. 

Piett sighed, and made his way over to a counter top in the kitchen. He set Skywalker down on the linoleum counter and began opening cupboards in search of the med pack. 

“Second cupboard to the left of the sink,” Skywalker told him, and sure enough, the medpack was inside that cupboard. 

As the Admiral emptied the contents of the medpack (bandages, bacta injections, bacta patches, material for splints), Skywalker watched him warily. Carefully, Piett applied several bacta patches to Skywalker’s numerous deep cuts and bruises. Piett adhered the last of the bacta patches to the ring of inflamed skin around Skywalker’s neck. In the back of his mind, he cursed the boy’s captors. Did they not realize that this rebel, however idiotic in his beliefs, was a living being as well? Lord Vader would have their heads.

“I can't believe you actually care,” Skywalker muttered. 

Piett glanced up at him sharply. “Stay out-”

“-of your head, I know. I wasn't in your head. Your… distaste for the collar (and the sheer level of dirt in this apartment) is practically screaming at me through the Force. It’s giving me a headache when I try to ignore it.”

Piett mentally sighed, slowly letting his guard down. “I hunted pirates here for years. Devices like the collar and people like your captors… have no respect in my eyes.”

Skywalker nodded, as if he was filing this information away in his mind. “You’re a good man, Admiral. I didn't think I'd ever meet a really _good_ Imperial, but you proved me wrong.”

The Admiral stared at him for a moment, confusion evident on his face. “And you don't seem like a rebel terrorist. You _seem_ sensible. Why are you with the Rebellion?”

Skywalker smiled sadly. “I told you; it's a sad story.”

“We have time.” 

Skywalker stayed silent, and Piett let his hand touch his ankle. He rolled up the leg of the jumpsuit and looked at the bruised skin surrounding Skywalker’s ankle and foot. His foot was twisted entirely to the back, and Piett flinched when he saw it. Lord Vader would kill them all for that. They were dead. Oh, well. His command of the ship lasted longer than many people before him; no use crying over spilled blue-milk. 

Cautiously, Piett recalled the little medical training he had, and glanced up at Skywalker. 

“This is going to hurt, isn't it?” the rebel asked.

Piett nodded grimly, and Skywalker clenched his hands onto the countertop. “You need to relax,” Piett said. “It'll be easier if you relax.”

Skywalker squeezed his eyes shut. “You try to relax when someone from the opposite side of the war holds your ability to walk in their hands.”

Piett mentally groaned. If Skywalker didn't relax, the pain would be that much worse. What could he say to get his mind elsewhere? 

“Lord Vader is harsh with the officers, but the troops adore him,” Piett said slowly, watching Skywalker's reaction. The Jedi’s eyes snapped open and he stared at Piett with urgent curiosity. “He goes into battle with them, and doesn't hesitate to defend them to their outrageous commanding officers. Since he’s above everyone except the Emperor, no one really argues with him. He’s strict, and expects a lot. Overall, though, he’s a good leader.”

Piett quickly snapped Skywalker’s ankle back into place while the Jedi was distracted, which garnered a mysteriously heart-wrenching scream from the rebel commander. His hands squeezed the counter so hard that his knuckles turned white. Tears dropped down his cheeks, and Piett fished a handkerchief from his pockets, dabbing away at the Jedi’s tears. 

_‘Crocodile tears,’_ Piett reminded himself. _‘Don't feel bad for him, don't care about him; he's a rebel, who Lord Vader is most likely going to kill anyways. Don't get attached.’_

Then, the Jedi dropped his head on Piett’s shoulder, thoroughly exhausted, and Piett gave up on his mission to not care.

“It's alright,” he said, awkwardly patting the man’s back. “Shhh.” 

This was not in the job description, this was _not _in the job description, _THIS WAS NOT IN THE JOB DESCRIPT--___

__The rebel sniffled, and picked up his head. His eyes, already bloodshot and red, were agitated and wet. “Thank you,” he said earnestly, and Piett nodded._ _

__“You’re welcome,” he said._ _

__He wasn't sure if he was thanking him for setting his bones, or for telling him about Lord Vader, but either way, the rebel seemed to be thankful. Skywalker was… interesting to say the least._ _

__Piett quickly spread some bacta paste around his ankle and took the splint from the medical pack. Once it was settled on Skywalker’s ankle, he nodded to himself and backed up, giving Skywalker a quick onceover to check the rest of his injuries._ _

__He was satisfied with the results, and made to lift Skywalker up again. “I can walk myself,” the rebel said. “I have a cast now!”_ _

__“You have a splint,” the admiral replied. “All the more reason for you _not_ to walk.”_ _

__Skywalker huffed, and shimmied away from Piett’s arms. “So find me a crutch or something.”_ _

__“Skywalker-”_ _

__“Luke.”_ _

__“-you can’t walk. You’re clearly exhausted, and were just _electrocuted_ numerous times. Even if your ankle was healed, I wouldn't let you walk.”_ _

__“But-”_ _

__“No buts,” Piett chided, scooping the Jedi up. _’Force, I feel like the kid’s uncle,’_ Piett thought to himself._ _

__“Hey!” he protested, wriggling around in Piett’s hands._ _

__“Stop, Luke,” the Admiral said. “You'll make your injuries worse and lessen your chances of escape even more.”_ _

__“You already aren't going to let me go!”_ _

__“No, but you escaped Lord Vader many times. I don't have his powers or level of experience in dealing with wayward Jedi.”_ _

__“Well, I can't even walk, how would I escape--oh. Oh, I see what you did there.”_ _

__“Can't even walk, you say?” Piett smirked._ _

__“You are… an Imperial,” Skywalker muttered. “Such an Imperial.”_ _

__Piett held back a laugh. This whole situation was hysterical. He came to Axxila for a _vacation_ and to relax, _and now he’s babysitting Luke Kriffing Skywalker_. Veers was going to have a field day._ _

__They walked on in silence, until Luke said, “We bought two droids from a few Jawas.”_ _

__“What?” the Admiral muttered._ _

__“My aunt, uncle, and I. We bought a pair of droids from the Jawas on Tatooine. We weren't rebel sympathizers. We didn't talk to rebels, Force we weren't involved in the Alliance at all back then. Anyways, one of the droids went off on his own in the middle of the night. That morning I followed him, and met a man named Ben Kenobi. Well, his real name was Obi-Wan, but I didn't know that at the time._ _

__“He told me that he knew my father, who was a Jedi. He said that Darth Vader was the one who killed my father, which was, of course, a lie. Or a half truth… either way, it wasn't completely true. He offered to train me as a Jedi, but I said I needed to stay with my family. On the way back to my homestead, we found the Jawas that had sold us the droids. They were all dead. A bunch of living beings, slaughtered. I thought it was Tusken Raiders… but it was Stormtroopers. When I realized that they were looking for the droids, I figured that they probably would’ve gone looking at my home. So, I left Ben behind and went to find my aunt and uncle. Granted, there wasn't much left to find.”_ _

__Piett felt dread slowly well up inside of him. “What happened?”_ _

__“They killed my aunt and uncle. Burned them alive, along with the only home I've ever known… I had to bury them myself. In an unmarked grave in the dunes. After that, I decided I didn't have anything left to lose. So, I decided to become a Jedi. I went with Ben to Alderaan, or it’s remains, I guess, and I joined the rebellion. The run we did on the Death Star was the first time I'd ever flown anything other than a skyhopper.”_ _

__Piett frowned, trying to hide his pity for the rebel commander. “I am… so sorry.”_ _

__Luke smiled sadly. “It wasn't your fault.”_ _

__From that point on, they didn't speak to each other._ _

________________ _

__

__Once they got back to the basement, Piett got Luke settled on the stairs, and peeked his head into the basement to check on the pirates who had caught Luke in the first place. Still unconscious._ _

__**'Good,** ’ Piett thought. For a moment he considered stunning them again, just for good measure, but Lord Vader would not be pleased with him if they went into stun-shock. No, it was better to leave them bound. Lord Vader would take care of them when he arrived. _ _

__Piett pulled up his sleeve and tapped a few buttons in on his wrist comm, calling the _Executor_. As soon as the call was answered, he said. “This is Admiral Firmus Piett, confirmation code 042106-FP. I need to speak with Lord Vader. It’s urgent.”_ _

__The officer on the other end spluttered. “Uh--yes, just a moment sir.”_ _

__The pleasant tones of the Imperial march sang through the comm as Piett was put on hold._ _

__Piett wandered over to the staircase, and Skywalker nodded drowsily at him. “The adrenaline wore off,” he informed the Admiral with a yawn. “Force, I can’t remember the last time they let me sleep._ _

__“Go to sleep, Skywalker,” he said. “You look like you need it.”_ _

__“Luke,” Sk--Luke corrected him. “You carried me around for an hour, you should call me Luke.”_ _

__Luke patted the floor next to him, inviting Piett to sit. The Imperial glanced at his wrist comm (still on hold) and sighed, eyeing the dirty floor with distaste. Slowly, he sat down a couple feet away from Luke, who scooted closer to him and dropped his head on Piett’s shoulder._ _

__The Admiral tensed, and raised an eyebrow, but Luke just rolled his eyes. “Relax. I need to sleep and it's freezing here. I'm from Tatooine, remember?”_ _

__The man was about to protest that he was still slightly damp from the rain outside, but Luke’s eyes blinked shut, and Piett sighed. He took off the jacket he had worn and draped it over Skywalker’s shoulders. Skywalker smiled, and put his head back on Piett’s shoulder. In his mind, the Imperial groaned. _‘I did NOT sign up for this,’_ he thought. __

____Then, his comm burst to life and a familiar baritone voice filled the air._ _ _ _

____“Admiral Piett,” Lord Vader said firmly. “I believe I told you to take a mandatory leave of absence, and to not contact me or the _Executor_ for the next week.”_ _ _ _

____“Yes, my lord, but-”_ _ _ _

____“Do not contact me again.”_ _ _ _

____The Sith Lord hung up on his Admiral, who gaped blankly at his comm. Luke, who he _thought_ was asleep, snickered. “Don't worry, I'll get him back.”_ _ _ _

____Piett stared at the Jedi in confusion. “What? How will-”_ _ _ _

____He was cut off by the blinking light on his comm. Piett accepted the call, and Lord Vader’s voice once again filled the air. “You have five minutes. Explain.”_ _ _ _

____Piett glanced nervously at Luke, who smiled blearily. “As per your request, I visited my family on Axxila and was _relaxing_ when I heard two undesirables talking amongst themselves in a bar. They spoke about a captive, and said that he was calling himself Skywa-”_ _ _ _

____“The point, Admiral,” Vader growled._ _ _ _

____“I have Lu-err, Skywalker.”_ _ _ _

____“And how long have you waited to inform me of this, Admiral?”_ _ _ _

____“About standard hour, my lord. Skywalker had injuries that needed to be tended to, which I healed myself. I did not believe any hospital in the immediate vicinity was prepared to treat a Jedi, and many would allow for him to escape.”_ _ _ _

____Vader was silent for a moment, before he nodded. “Excellent work, as per usual Admiral. I will arrive in a day to retrieve Skywalker, and you may continue with your vacation as planned.”_ _ _ _

____Piett bristled. “All due respect, sir, I believe it would be best if I-”_ _ _ _

____“Are you questioning my judgement, Admiral Piett?”_ _ _ _

____He swallowed nervously. “Of course not, my lord.”_ _ _ _

____“I did not think so. Is he with you now?”_ _ _ _

____After one confused second, Piett realized that the Sith was referring to Luke. “Yes, my lord, though he may be asleep.”_ _ _ _

____“I'm certainly trying,” Luke mumbled. “You two are loud.”_ _ _ _

____“Luke,” Vader said. “You will _not_ try to escape this time, young one. It is Admiral Piett’s life that you will be risking, if you do.”_ _ _ _

____He sighed. “I figured that out myself, Father.”_ _ _ _

____Piett froze. _Father?!?!?!__ _ _ _

____“So, you have accepted the truth,” Vader said. Satisfaction oozed out of his words._ _ _ _

____“I have accepted that you were once Anakin Skywalker, my father.”_ _ _ _

_____’I am going to die,’_ Piett thought. _’Vader--kin is going to murder me.’__ _ _ _

____“That name no longer has any meaning to me,” Vader growled._ _ _ _

____“Then why does the name Luke Skywalker have any meaning for you?” Luke demanded._ _ _ _

____They sat in silence for a few minutes, and Piett was hit with the overwhelming suspicion that Luke and Lord Vader were somehow communicating. Eventually, Vader cut off the silence with an audible growl. “We will continue this discussion at another time. Sleep, young one. Admiral Piett, a word in private?”_ _ _ _

____Piett nodded, “Of course, my lord.”_ _ _ _

____The Admiral walked into the basement, leaving Luke on the staircase. “What do you need, sir?”_ _ _ _

____“I don't believe I need to explain what will happen if you breathe a word of this to anyone, Admiral?”_ _ _ _

____“No, my lord.”_ _ _ _

____“Good. You are one of the few people I can trust, Piett. Don't make me regret that.”_ _ _ _

____“Yes, my lord,” Piett said, tension leaving his body._ _ _ _

____“Now, what exactly is the full extent of the child’s injuries? And who, precisely, administered them?”_ _ _ _

____Piett flinched. “He has many deep cuts, which I treated with bacta, as well as several bruises and scrapes. I'm assuming that these were a result of his capture, as his captors were not subtle about his harm. They held him here using rusty chains, which left ligature marks on his wrists. Luke informed me that they did ‘something’ to his ankle, which left it twisted at an 180 degree angle. I set that bone, and put it in a splint. His captors used a shock collar to… I believe he said it was to stop him from concentrating on the Force. They also used it to torture him for information, which he refused to give. The only pain I believe I've put Luke through is setting his broken ankle.”_ _ _ _

____“These _captors-”__ _ _ _

____“Are currently bound in the chains they put Luke in,” Piett said. “They won't be leaving anytime soon.”_ _ _ _

____“You have done well, Admiral Piett. See to it that you do not fail me now.”_ _ _ _

____Vader cut the transmission, and Piett let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding._ _ _ _

____If this is what vacation is like, Piett is glad that this will be over soon._ _ _ _

____(Of course, in about five minutes Piett realized that he called Skywalker ‘Luke’ in front of Lord Vader, and hysterically pondered the thought of his imminent death-via-Force-choke occurring as a result of a misuse of Skywalker’s title. Thankfully, our Admiral still has his neck and head perfectly safe and secure to this day. {Although Luke constantly insists to drop the ‘My Lord’ and ‘Your Highness’, and Vader reprimands his son with a reminder that the Admiral is only showing the respect warranted by someone of Luke’s station. Of course, this sparks the Skywalker Debate of Every Day Ever, and Poor Piett has to sit through an hour long spiel from Vader and Luke’s constant rebuttals. Honestly, he’s fine with it as long as these goddamn Skywalkers don’t mess with his goddamn Bridge.})_ _ _ _

__________________________ _ _ _

____ _ _

____**EXTRA:** _ _ _ _

____Admiral Piett sighed in content, stepping onto his bridge for the first time in three long days. “Officers,” he said, nodding to his crew. “Set course for Endor.”_ _ _ _

____The workers nodded, and began typing into the computers of the Star Destroyer._ _ _ _

____Piett walked to the end of the bridge, and watched as the stars flew past as they leapt into hyperspeed. It was good to be back._ _ _ _

____“Firmus,” a familiar voice called. “A word?”_ _ _ _

____Piett turned around to see General Veers glaring at him with his arms crossed. Piett sighed inwardly. “Yes, Max?”_ _ _ _

____Veers walked closer to him, and growled, “I finally got the chance to force you to relax, and take a couple weeks for yourself, and what did you do?”_ _ _ _

____Piett chuckled nervously. “I, ah, took a couple weeks to relax?”_ _ _ _

____Veers’ glare intensified. “You ran around Axxila looking for Luke Skywalker, found him, somehow got him to like you, and made him persuade Vader to let you back onto the ship early, thus ending your vacation before it had truly begun! What the kriffing hell were you thinking?!?!”_ _ _ _

____Piett flinched. Huh. Maybe it wasn't so good to be back._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I hope you enjoyed it! BTW, I'm planning on writing something like this next:
> 
> A.) Modern Au; College Professor Vader and Student Luke. Not sure what I'd do about the plot, but I'm thinking Vader could find out about Luke's existence halfway through the semester and not tell him because he's worried that Luke won't like him, as he is the strictest teacher on campus
> 
> B.) Luke is the King of Naboo, and Vader comes to kill him, until OOPS HE'S MY KID
> 
> C.) The classic Luke-Is-Captured-And-Needs-Vader, but with a twist; Luke's boyfriend [who, coincidentally, is General Veers' rebel son (it's a thing; Zev Veers is canon)] is among the captives and Luke won't go anywhere without him
> 
> Tell me which one or I will write a sick, twisted, terrible oneshot where everyone dies. I will make you cry. I won't like it, but I'll do it, so pick a letter so I don't have to!!!! :((((((
> 
> (p.s.: be happy)


	4. A Little Something In Common

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The classic Luke is captured and needs Vader's help AU (set three months after ESB) in which Luke and Zev tug on their father's heart strings, Veers and Vader are soon-to-be-in-laws, and Piett just wants all these idiots off his bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heya! It's a little late in the day, but I said I'd get it out today so here it is! Thanks to Becca, by bestie and beta! I didn't have a beta before now, so hopefully there weren't too many errors in the past two ficlets. Happy reading!

The lieutenant tossed Zev back into the cell. “Reconsider your decision, rebel scum,” he spat. “I won't be so lenient next time you refuse to talk.”

Zev’s lip was pouring out blood, and his eye was swollen shut. He was clutching his sides in pain, but crawled closer to Luke regardless. 

“Oh, Force,” Luke gasped when he caught sight of Zev’s face. “What did they do to you?”

Zev groaned, and shoved himself up to a sitting position. Luke scooted over to him and looped an arm around his shoulders. 

“I can try to—”

“No, Luke,” Zev said, cutting him off. “You need to save your whole… Force-healing thingy for yourself. You’ll need the energy.”

“I’m not the only one here that matters! I don’t want you to hurt, Zev.”

Zev smiled. “I know, my love. I know.” 

“Then please, let me heal you. Just for a minute,” Luke said. 

Zev shook his head. “You’re worse off than me, Luke.”

It was true. Luke had a blaster wound in his left arm, and his prosthetic was sparking with each move he made. His nose was gushing blood and staining the collar of Luke’s shirt gruesome crimson. 

“I’m fine,” Luke insisted. “It’s nothing.”

“Luke,” Zev said, gently tucking a strand of the Jedi’s honey blonde hair behind his ear, “it isn’t nothing. “Even a non-force sensitive like me can tell you’re hurting. You need help too.”

Luke bit his lip, and leaned closer to Zev, tucking his head under Zev's chin . “I don’t want you hurt.”

He smiled, pressing a light kiss to the top of Luke’s head. “I don’t want you hurt either. Which is why you should save your strength.”

Luke nodded, and gently pushed Zev so that he was laying down. “You need to sleep while you have the chance. They’ll be back for one of us soon.”

Zev tilted his head. “What about you?”

“I need to meditate.” 

Zev smirked. “Do your thing, Jedi boy.”

Luke laughed sadly, and grabbed Zev’s hand. “We’ll be okay, right?”

Zev nodded, squeezing his hand comfortingly. “We’ll be fine. Our fathers will realize that we’re here soon.”

“I don't know if I want that,” Luke replied earnestly.

Zev sighed. “I know, Luke. I don't want them to know either.”

“I know. Why do you think I haven't contacted Vader?”

“True… can you promise me something?”

“Anything.” 

“If my father…” he trailed off. “If he finds out that I'm here, don't tell him that we’re together. I'm not ashamed, I just… need to tell him myself.”

“And I need to tell my father personally,” Luke nodded. “I get it.”

“Knew you would,” Zev smiled before falling into a restless sleep. 

Luke smiled at him, and closed his eyes, running through a few breathing exercises before dropping into a trance. 

——————

Luke was unceremoniously pulled out of his meditation when someone grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the cell. 

“Let him go!” Zev screamed. When Luke looked back at him, he was greeted by the sight of Zev being held down by two Imperial officers.

“Zev,” Luke whimpered as he was dragged out of the cell into an (at this point) familiar interrogation room. “No…” 

Luke was thrown to the floor, and he struggled to stand before the door closed. 

The officers that had held Zev down walked into the interrogation room, and the door slid shut with a metallic clang. Luke took a deep breath, and glared defiantly at the lieutenant who was openly smirking at him. 

“Go ahead, boys,” he said. “Give the rebel what he’s been asking for.”

One officer stepped forward, a whip in his hand. Luke shook his head, scooting backwards as far as he could. “No.” 

The officer grinned maliciously . “Yes.” 

One senseless beating later, and Luke was lying on his stomach on the floor, his throat sore from screaming, and his back bloodied.

“Now I will ask you one more time, Commander,” the Imperial sneered, circling Luke’s prone body, which was sprawled across the floor of the cell. “Where is the rebel base?”

Luke coughed, and weakly shook his head. “I won’t tell you,” he rasped. 

The Imperial chuckled. “Very well,” he said carelessly. The lieutenant turned to the officers beside him. “Whip him again. Maybe then he’ll be more willing to share information.”

“I would not do that if I were you,” a familiar mechanical voice warned them. 

The lieutenant whipped around to face Darth Vader, who had just stepped into the doorway of the cell. “L-L-Lord Vader!” he exclaimed. “I was just interrogating—”

“I am well aware of that, lieutenant. It would be wise of you to stop this interrogation this instant,” Vader’s tone was threatening, and the lieutenant swallowed nervously. 

“O-of course, milord. Only, I was quite close to getting some information out of this rebel. If you would allow me to… continue the interrogation—”

He was cut off as an invisible force tightened around his neck. Instinctively, he clawed his hands against his skin, gasping for air. 

“I believe I was quite clear, lieutenant. End the interrogation…” the lieutenants neck snapped “... or end your life.”

The remaining officers backed up in fear, and were promptly lifted into the air and thrown into the nearby durasteel wall with a wave of Vader’s hands. 

“You should have considered who exactly you were questioning, officers,” the Sith said curtly. “This mistake cost you your lives.”

Luke flinched as the men’s lifeless bodies dropped to the floor beside him. Slowly, Vader stepped further into the cell, standing in front of his son. 

“Luke,” Vader said. It seemed as if a thousand phrases and questions were packed into that one name. 

Luke glanced up, and wheezed, “Father.”

Vader knelt down, and scooped the Jedi into his arms. “Come, little one,” he said gently. “We must go to the medbay at once for your medical treatment.”

“No. No!” Luke protested as he tried to squirm out of Vader’s grasp.

“You will not be escaping again, young one,” Vader growled. “Your destiny lies with me.”

Luke shook his head slowly. “Z… ev… need… ev…” 

“You need no one,” Vader said. “We will go to he medbay to obtain the medical care you need, and you _will_ turn. It is your destiny, my son.”

Luke glanced up at him, and panted. The rebel’s throat was scratched and torn from screaming in pain, and he could hardly make himself speak. Thank Force for the Force. 

_Father, please,_ he called to his father through the bond. _I was caught with someone else. He’s still here. Please, Father, I can’t just leave him here!_

Vader growled, and stopped walking. “You cannot cling to your rebel friends for much longer, young one. They will only disappoint you.” 

_I’ll go with you,_ Luke bargained. _I won’t fight, but please, Father, I’m begging you not to leave him here!_

Luke glanced up at his father, letting tears blossom in his eyes. Vader’s vocoder made an odd crackling sound; the only way it could interpret a sigh. 

“Sleep, young one,” Vader said. “We will speak about this at a later date.”

“No,” Luke protested. But the exhaustion caught up with him, and he slumped in Vader’s arms, resting his head on the Sith’s chestplate. “Need Zev…” 

“Sleep,” Vader said again, this time pushing the Force into the suggestion. 

Luke couldn't ignore the mind trick, and his eyes shut, falling into a deep sleep. 

__________

_Beep, beep, beep._

Luke blinked his eyes open, and shut them quickly in response to the bright lights of the medbay. 

_Beep, beep, beep._

He groaned, and pulled himself up. “What's that beeping noise?” he mumbled, his voice still hoarse. Thankfully, it was no longer painful for him to speak, but it still wasn't entirely pleasant. 

“Ah!” a med droid exclaimed. “You're awake. I will alert Lord Vader immediately.”

Luke frowned. “Lord Vader?” 

At that moment, it all came flying back to him. His capture on the _Executor_ , the Imperial who was determined to ‘break them’ by the time Vader learned that they were there, Zev’s screams as he was being dragged away… 

Wait… ZEV!

Luke jumped out of his bed, tearing IVs out of his arm. The bacta bandages lining his back chafed uncomfortably his healed skin. He had been changed out of the torn and bloodied clothes he had been wearing; now he was clad in a white medical shirt and loose pants. His feet were covered in soft socks, and his shoes were nowhere to be seen. Normally, Luke wouldn’t want to be seen in this. But at the moment, there were more important things than his reputation. 

“Can you point me to the detention center?” he asked the droid. 

“Why, sir, I'm afraid I'm under direct orders not to let you go! Your wounds are still healing, and-”

“Fine, I'll find it myself,” Luke sighed, shoving the droid to the far end of the room via the Force. Luke raced out the door of the medbay and hurried down the first corridor he could find. There were no guards watching him, so Luke felt that the situation constitutes an escape. Vader truly set him up for success; no guards? What was he thinking?

Guards or not the _Executor_ was the largest ship in the Imperial Navy; it’s measurements weren't known for certain, but it was estimated to be the size of a small city. In other words, it would be more than a little difficult to find the detention center. 

Well… there was another way to find Zev. Luke closed his eyes, and focused on Zev’s Force signature. Zev wasn't Force sensitive, but his presence was brighter than most people’s. Luke hadn't realized this until he was searching for him during a dogfight and had easily located the man’s presence. 

Luke kept his head down, projecting ‘Nothing to see here, folks’ through the Force. To any Force sensitive, he was practically waving a flag that said, ‘ _I’m here, come and get me!_ ’. But to the numerous Imperial’s he passed in the halls, he was practically invisible. 

Luke followed Zev’s presence to the detention block, where he quickly knocked out the guards outside the man’s cell and opened the door. “Zev?” Luke asked cautiously.

The rebel looked up, and relief overcame his face. “Luke,” he rasped. “Thank god. I thought Vader found you and you were-”

“Dead?” Luke muttered. “Vader did find me, but he sent me to the medbay. How long was I gone?”

“I don't know,” Zev admitted. “Time is like a figment of my imagination down here.”

Luke frowned in sympathy, and knelt down next to Zev. “How bad are your injuries?” 

“I'm alright. What about you?”

“I'm fine. Can you walk?”

Zev nodded, and Luke offered him a hand. They stood up slowly, and Zev winced. “I think they bruised my ribs,” he said, rubbing his side. Luke frowned, poking at Zev’s stomach. “Oh kriff, that hurts,” Zev breathed, leaning on the smaller man. 

Luke’s frown deepened. “Vader’s coming. We need to get out of here, now!”

“There will be no need for that,” Vader said, walking into the cell block. 

Luke turned around and glared at the behemoth Sith standing in the doorway. “There is every need for that,” Luke says. “I trust you with my health, but not with his.”

“Clearly, I must be trusted with your health because you certainly cannot be. You _left_ the medbay before your treatment was done!”

Zev, who was still leaning on Luke, glared at the Jedi. “You did _what_?”

Luke winced. “So… I may have woken up, gotten worried about you, and ran down here. Maybe.”

Zev stared at him. “You. Did. What?!?!”

“I just wanted to help you!”

“Luke Anakin Skywalker. What exactly makes you think that I wanted you to do that?! You could’ve gotten hurt!”

“But I didn’t.”

“But you could have! You can’t put others' needs before yourself all the time. It’s fine every now and then, but you could’ve been hurt. What if an Imp saw you and shot you? What if you got lost on the _Executor_ and no one could find you? Kriffing hells, Luke, this is why I’m always worried about you!”

Luke bit his lip, and Vader nodded to Zev. “For once, I agree with this rebel. You must learn to look out for yourself, young one.”

Luke gaped at Vader and Zev. “Wait, you two can’t gang up on me! That’s not fair.”

Zev chuckled. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”

“No, it will not,” Vader said. “Because this rebel will stay here, and you, my reckless son, will come with me back to your quarters.”

Luke glared. “Not until you swear that you’ll let Zev go.”

“Wait, what?” Zev frowned. 

“I cannot release a rebel, no matter what the situation,” Vader replied. 

“I’m not leaving you, Luke.”

“You have to, Zev,” Luke insisted. “I’ll turn myself over to you, Father, if you let him go. _Please!”_

Vader pondered this for a moment. “Very well. I will arrange for your friend’s departure this evening.”

“No!” Zev exclaimed. “I told you, Luke, I’m not leaving you.”

“Zev, please,” Luke said. “I need you to be safe!”

“I’d rather be in danger with you than safe without you,” he replied, stroking Luke’s cheek. 

Luke stared into Zev’s eyes and sighed. “You know I love you, and I need you too, but… you could get hurt, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if that happened.”

Zev leant down and pressed his forehead against Luke’s. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I left you here.”

Behind his mask, Vader raised an eyebrow. “What exactly is the extent of your relationship?”

Luke laughed nervously. “We’re together.”

“Have been for three years, thanks for noticing,” Zev snorted. 

Vader stared incredulously at them, and sent Luke an exasperated sigh through their bond. “Very well, then,” he said. “Your companion may accompany you back to the medbay, where you will both be guarded by a legion of stormtroopers.”

“And his wounds will be treated,” Luke demanded. 

Vader sighed again. “And his wounds will be treated, yes. You will stay with him in the medbay, and this time it would be wise of you not to escape. It is your lover’s life that hangs in the balance.”

“Of course,” Luke nodded, but he didn’t believe that Vader would harm Zev. Not after their relationship was revealed. 

Zev looped his arm around Luke’s shoulders, using the smaller rebel as a crutch. “Let’s go, Skywalker.”

Luke beamed at his lover, and the duo followed Vader out of the cell block. 

——————

“The injuries you sustained are mostly healed, sir,” the med droid said as she removed the bacta patch covering the blaster bolt on Luke’s arm. “You should be in prime condition in no time.”

“Thank you,” Luke smiled. “How did you fix my prosthetic? I still can’t get the hang of all the wiring.”

“Well, sir, it’s truly quite simple! Your prosthetic hand was sparking because of a group of wires that were mangled during your captivity. My good friend TI-84, the droid who fixed your mechanical hand, has been fixing our Maker’s prosthetics since his creation!”

“Your Maker?” Luke questioned. 

“Lord Vader, of course!”

“Of course. Is he kind to you?”

“Oh, very! We could not have asked for a better Maker.”

Luke nodded. “Thank you.”

“For what, sir?”

“For telling me. And it’s just Luke. You don’t have to call me sir.”

“Very well, sir!” 

Luke sighed, knowing that was a battle he was unlikely to win. He glanced at Zev, who was lying unconscious in a bed beside Luke, and asked, “How is he?”

“Well, he seems to have undergone extensive trauma. He has two broken ribs along with a split lip and extensive bruising around his wrists. I applied several bacta patches to the patient, and the sedative he was given should wear off in the next 24 hours.”

Luke sighed, and nodded. “24 hours. Just 24 more hours.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Uh, could you give me a minute?”

“Yes, sir.”

The droid rolled over to the corner of the room, and powered down. Luke turned back to Zev, and grabbed his hand. “You better be okay,” he whispered, kissing him lightly on the forehead. 

The doors to the medbay swished open, and Vader walked in dramatically, his cape billowing behind him. 

“Father,” Luke acknowledged him. 

“Luke,” Vader nodded. “How is he?”

The Jedi glanced back at Zev. “He's gonna be okay. He has to be.”

Vader stayed silent, tilting his head at the duo. Luke was sitting at Zev’s bedside, holding his hand tightly. “How long have you been involved with this man?”

“I think he said earlier. Three years. Our anniversary is in two sleep cycles.”

“So he was there for you, after…” 

“Bespin, yeah,” Luke nodded. He tore his eyes away from Zev and smiled lightly up at his father. “I'm not angry anymore. I mean, I was at first but… I've forgiven you. You know that, right?”

“I do not deserve your forgiveness,” Vader said in a guilt ridden tone. 

“Yes, Father. You do. It wasn't your fault. You didn't _mean_ to hurt me. It happened in the heat of the battle.”

“That does not excuse-”

“No, it doesn't excuse it. And it doesn't make the fact that you cut off my hand, told me you were my father, and asked me to join you in the span of 2 minutes okay. But it happened,” Luke shrugged. “You can't take it back, and me wallowing in my anger and self-pity will only bring me sadness.” _And bring me closer to the dark side,_ he thought. 

Vader stared at him. “You could have died, young one! How can you be so blasé about this situation.”

“I'm choosing to forgive you, Father,” Luke persisted. “You didn't walk into that duel with the intention of cutting off my hand, it just… happened. That isn't your fault!”

Vader shook. “How… how can you-”

“I just can. Besides, you're my father and because of that, I lo--”

Luke cut himself off mid-sentence. 

The Sith Lord shook his head. “You are far too forgiving, child.”

Luke smiled. “I'm guessing I got that trait from my mother?”

“Yes. Yes, you did.”

“What was she like?”

“She was… everything,” Vader said honestly. “She was everything.”

Luke leaned forward, beckoning Vader further into the medbay. “What was her name?”

Vader froze. “You… you don't know her-”

“Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen had no clue who she was,” Luke mumbled. “Ben wasn't exactly a fountain of truthful information either.” 

Luke's tone radiated sadness and hurt at the thought of his old master. 

“Kenobi hid much from you,” Vader muttered hesitantly. The last time he and Luke spoke of Obi-Wan’s lies, it hadn't gone well for either of them. He pushed away memories of his son’s battered body dropping off the gantry of Cloud City; to this day, that was the scariest moment of his life.

“Yeah,” Luke shrugged. “I guess he was trying to protect me, but it still hurts.”

“He should have told you the truth.”

“I agree,” Luke said. “For once, I completely agree.”

Vader stared at his son hesitantly, before slowly walking over to the boy and resting a cautious hand on his shoulder. “Are you… alright?”

Luke sniffled, and shook his head. “I will be. But not now. Not yet…” 

Father and son stayed there for a moment in peaceful silence. Luke tilted his head to the side, resting it on Vader’s hand. “Thank you,” he said. “Y’know, for listening.”

“I am your father, young one,” Vader replied. “It is my job to listen to you.”

Luke laughed. “I don't know if that’s how that works. Although, I guess I already went through my, ‘Force, my father just doesn't get me!’ phase.” 

“We certainly do not have the normal father-son relationship expected of most families.”

“No, we most definitely don't.” 

Vader and Luke were silent for another moment, and Vader broke the silence by telling Luke, “Her name was Padmé Amidala.”

Luke’s brow furrowed. “I think I’ve heard that name before…” 

“She was a queen,” Vader said. “Elected at age 14.”

“Elected? Aren't monarchies passed down through families?”

“Padmé lived on Naboo, a planet which is rooted in democracy. The planet’s rulers are elected at a young age.”

“Wow,” Luke said. “She was only 14? When I was 14 I was flying around Tatooine shooting at womp rats. I can't imagine ruling a planet. She sounds… amazing.”

“She was indeed,” Vader reminisced. “She was my angel.”

Luke glanced up at his father, wondering what had happened to her. But Vader was staring off into space, as if he was caught up in a past that was so magnificent, he could never match it’s wonder here in the future. 

“Father?” Luke said softly. 

Anything Vader would have said was cut off by a loudly beeping comlink. Vader growled, and tapped his wrist link pulling his hand off of Luke’s shoulder. 

“What, Admiral?” he grunted. 

“ _Lord Vader, we’ve received information of a possible base on Kamino. Would you like to direct the ship to the system?_ ” the voice asked sharply. 

Vader sent Luke a sigh through their bond, and the Jedi stifled a laugh. There was no base on Kamino. 

“Set course for Kamino at once, Admiral,” Vader demanded. 

“ _Yes, my lord._ ”

The transmission cut out, and Luke frowned. “There isn't a base on Kamino,” Luke said. “You know there isn't. Why are you bothering to check it out?”

“Whilst I was searching for you, I looked into every rumor of rebel activity. It would seem suspicious to my crew if I let this go, even though I now have what I needed. Do not worry, young one; once your status as my son and heir is announced to the galaxy, there will be no need to follow pointless leads.”

Luke’s jaw dropped to the floor. “Announced to the galaxy?”

Vader nodded, slightly embarrassed. “I intend to claim you as my child and second in line for the throne.”

Luke gaped. “Huh. Second in line. Well… that's not terrifying at all.”

“What?” 

“Oh, it's just… you know, poor farm boy raised on Tatooine, away from the galaxy. And the fact that, you know, _I'm not going to turn_ makes me a little…..queasy about the whole ‘second in line’ deal,” Luke said hysterically. 

“Calm down, young one. You will adjust to your status-”

“Never! I will adjust to my status never because I am a _moisture farmer and a rebel!_. I have no experience running a galaxy, let alone a government I don't even support and have actively fought against!”

“You will be fine,” Vader admonished. “I was not aware that it would worry you this much.”

Luke stared at him, panicked. “Yeah, well, you have Zev now, so I don't see much chance for escape, and you’re here offering me the kriffing galaxy again--I'm fine with a new pair of shoes, or maybe a couple new tools for my X-Wing, I was NOT prepared for a kriffing galaxy!”

Vader snorted, amused. “Do not worry. You’ll learn to enjoy the power, just as I did.”

Luke shook his head. “But Father, I don't _want_ that. I just want my dad.”

The Sith reared back in shock. “You-” 

“I… I don't know,” Luke sighed. “Can I walk around? I need to get out of here. Looking at Zev, like this… people don't always come to medbays to get better, they come to die. I want to be here for him, but…” 

“It hurts you to see him like this,” Vader finished. 

“Yeah,” he said, biting his lip. 

The Sith paused. “Hmm. Very well, then. I suppose I can take you to the bridge while I attend my other duties.”

“The bridge? Of a _Star Destroyer_? Are you kidding?” Luke beamed as he stood up and bounced on the balls of his feet. 

“You will be placed in the care of my Admiral, of course, but I suppose if you change your clothes into something more… presentable, you can reside on the bridge for a few hours.”

Luke gaped at Vader, his eyes wide and bright. “I'm about to see the bridge of the kriffing _Executor_?! This is the best ship in the Imperial Navy!” he geeked out, grabbing Vader’s hand and jumping up and down in excitement. “Oh… wait,” he said, standing still. “I… destroyed the Death Star. I doubt I'll be too welcome on the bridge of a Star Destroyer.”

“We will not tell anyone but my Admiral your full name,” Vader said. “And if you don't draw attention to yourself, no one will recognize you.”

“So… this could work.”

“Indeed it could, young one.”

“I'm 23.”

“Do not remind me. Now, if you follow me to your quarters, you will find more clothing options for your bridge excursion.”

Vader walked out of the room, watching Luke scoop up a jacket from the chair before running after him. The Sith slowed down until Luke was able to match his pace. The duo walked through the corridors until they reached a lift, which took them to a separate wing of the ship. 

“Where are we?” Luke wondered. 

“My personal quarters are on the left of the hall. Yours are on the right. At the end of the hall, they are joined together.”

“Woah,” he muttered. Vader led him to the third doorway on the right side of the hall--his side of the hall. 

“Everything you need will be in here,” Vader said. “Only a select few are permitted access to these rooms, so you should have privacy at all times.”

Luke blinked. “Wow.” 

Slowly, he stepped into the room, letting the door swish shut behind him. There were two doors on either side of the room, presumably connecting it to the other rooms. The room (though it was more like a walk-in closet) was bigger than his entire house on Tatooine, and it was filled to the brim with clothing. Most of it was darkly colored, but there were a few splashes of color within the darkness. _‘That reminds me of Father,’_ he thought. _‘A few splashes of light in a sea of darkness.’_

In order to shake that thought away, Luke dropped his jacket on the floor and ran his hands across the rows of shirts. The material was expensive; more expensive than anything he had worn in his life. 

After a few minutes of staring at the sheer ocean of clothing, Luke grabbed a dark green shirt and a pair of black pants. He shoved his feet into a pair of military-grade boots, and wandered over to a three-sided mirror to check his reflection. 

He looked… like an Imperial. _‘That’s not pleasant,’_ he thought, glancing down at himself. In the back of his mind, he remembered the jacket he had dropped on the floor. 

Luke walked over to it and picked it up, draping it over his shoulders. It was Zev’s old jacket that his father had given to him years ago, so it was more than a little big on Luke. Still, it was the best source of comfort he could think of, so he slipped his arms into the sleeves of the torn black jacket that had seen years and years of use, and walked out to greet his father. 

“Hey,” he muttered cautiously.

“I trust you were able to find everything? You did not take as long as I expected.”

“Yeah, well I've already spent a lot of time in the closet,” Luke joked. 

Vader sent Luke a burst of amusement through their bond and looked over his son’s appearance. “That jacket-”

“Is staying on,” Luke replied firmly, crossing his arms. It wasn't until after he did so that Luke realized he had mimicked one of Vader’s classic stances. Only it looked much less intimidating when Luke was wearing a jacket with sleeves that went three inches past his fingertips.

Vader’s vocoder crackled; a sigh. “Very well,” he said. “Come along. I have commed Admiral Piett and he has agreed to watch over you.”

“Was it really the poor man’s choice?” Vader gave him a look, and Luke laughed. “What? You're a hard person to say no to,” he shrugged. 

“The Admiral is one of the few I have ever trusted,” Vader replied dryly. “He does not disappoint me.”

Luke nodded. “Touche.”

“What is the significance of that jacket?” the Sith asked after a short pause. 

“It’s Zev’s,” Luke said. “I won't tell you the whole story behind it, but he’s had it for longer than I've known him and it’s more important to him than any other object in the world. I didn't want to leave it there, because the med droid already threw out my clothes, so I figured it might toss Zev’s jacket, too.”

“So why must you wear it? Why not leave it in your quarters?”

“Because. This jacket is always either being held by, worn by, and/or watched by somebody. It's common knowledge in the rebellion that you don't leave it alone, ever.”

“What about it could possibly be so important?” Vader scoffed. 

“That’s personal.”

“Of course. My apologies.”

“It's fine!” Luke smiled. “So, this Admiral of yours. What’s he like?”

“Admiral Piett is a dedicated, intelligent man,” Vader began as the lift opened. The two walked down the hall, and continued to communicate through their bond. 

‘ _He does not believe in or receive nepotism, bribery, or any other kind of malfeasance. He has only ever failed me once, which he quickly compensated for with an Imperial success at the Battle of Tundrar. I trust him above all other officers. The only man who can come even close to second place would be General Veers--_ ’

Luke stopped in his tracks. “Wait… is Veers on the ship _now_?”

Officers and stormtroopers stared at him, for he seemed to have asked the question for no reason. 

‘ _You are causing a scene,’_ Vader admonished, grabbing Luke by the arm and dragging him along. 

‘ _You didn't answer me,_ ’ Luke pushed. 

Vader sent a sigh through their link. ‘ _I did not believe you were so afraid of him._ ’

_‘I'm not afraid of him.’_

_‘Then what is your reasoning for your harsh reaction?’_

_‘I can't tell you.’_

_‘It does you no good to hide things from me.’_

“I'm not hiding anything,” Luke said as they stepped onto the bridge. The room went silent. 

_‘Do not think that I haven't noticed the fact that you have not spoken your companion’s name aloud, little one,’_ Vader chided as a middle aged man about Luke’s height walked over to them. 

“My Lord,” he said, nodding to Vader. “We were just about to jump into hyperspace.”

“Excellent, Admiral. I believe you are aware of my guest’s identity,” he said, motioning to Luke. 

The Admiral nodded once to the Jedi. “Commander.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. Normally, Imperials didn’t take rebels’ ranks seriously. At least, not enough to address them properly. 

“Admiral,” Luke smiled in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The Imperial nodded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”

Luke raised his other eyebrow. An Imperial with manners? That’s not something you come across often. 

“You are aware of your mission objective, Admiral?” Vader spoke. 

Piett nodded. “Watch the Commander and run the bridge.”

“Excellent,” Vader said. “Do not disappoint me, Admiral.”

“Yes, Lord Vader.”

Vader turned on his heel and stormed out of the bridge. Pietts eyes followed him as he left, and once the Sith was out of sight the Admiral’s shoulders dropped in relief. 

He glanced back at the Imperials, who were discretely staring at him and Luke. 

“Don't you have jobs to do?” he said sternly. 

Sure enough, the sound of clicking keyboards and light chatter filled the air. 

“My apologies, sir,” he turned back to Luke. “We don't receive guests often.”

“It's alright, Admiral,” Luke smiled. “Shall we?”

Luke walked to the end of the bridge, staring out of the viewports. Piett followed him, his curiosity towards the rebel evident in the Force. 

“I'm guessing you have some questions,” Luke smirked. “It's understandable; I've been told that I'm quite the enigma.”

“You guessed correctly,” Piett admitted, standing to the right of him. 

“Admiral Piett, we’re ready to jump to lightspeed,” an officer in the pit of the bridge said. 

“Go ahead, Captain,” Piett said. 

Luke watched as the stars zoomed past them, forming lines throughout his field of vision. He and the Admiral stared out the viewport together for what felt like a few seconds to Luke, and felt like hours to Piett.

“You had questions, Admiral?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ugh, drop the ‘sir’, it makes me feel old. Just call me Luke.”

“Of course, Commander Luke.”

“Just Luke.”

The Admiral tilted his head, staring at the rebel. “I can't figure you out, Luke.”

Luke smiled. “No?” 

“No. Lord Vader hunts you relentlessly for four long years, and when he finally catches you, he doesn't execute you on sight. Instead he gives you clothes, treats your wounds, and allows you onto the bridge of his ship.”

“Your ship.”

“Pardon?” 

“It’s your ship, too. And she’s a beauty. You must be proud. I would be!”

Piett stared at him, completely mystified, if not a little charmed. “I’m very proud. She's a stunning ship.”

Luke nodded in agreement. “The best in the Imperial Navy. Even us rebels can acknowledge that.”

The Imperial’s face was slate blank, but his emotions were rolling in the Force. They ranged from confusion to pride to anxiety. 

“Why are you worried, Admiral?” Luke asked. 

If the man was shocked that Luke had read his emotions, he didn't show it. “You’re a rebel Jedi, who managed to escape Lord Vader numerous times without a thought. I'm sure that if you wanted to, you could fight your way out of the bridge and leave the ship, which would most likely result in the end of my career and possibly my life.”

Luke flinched at the reminder of his father’s harsh disciplinary ways. “You overestimate my abilities, Admiral,” he said. “Besides, even if I _could_ escape, I wouldn't. Vader has my fia… friend. My friend.”

The Admiral raised an eyebrow at Luke’s slip, but chose to remain silent. 

“So…” Luke said. “How did you get to be Vader’s prized Admiral?”

“Hard work and determination,” Piett replied. 

“Ah, all that hard work and determination must be the reason you’re stressed, then.”

“Did I say I was stressed?”

“I've been talking to you for five minutes and I know you're stressed. When was the last time you took a vacation?”

“I've been asking him that question for the past year that I've known him,” a voice called from behind the duo. 

Luke and Piett spun around to see General Veers standing at parade rest five feet away from them. 

“Max,” Piett nodded. 

“Firmus,” Veers replied jokingly. “Firmus’ stranger friend.”

Luke laughed nervously. “Thats me, a stranger, who you don't know.”

He turned and looked back out the viewport to avoid the General’s eyes. In the glass, he saw the General glance at Piett, who just shrugged. Hesitantly, the General stepped closer to him, trying to get a good look at his face. 

At that point, Luke remembered that he was wearing Zev’s jacket. The one that the General had given to him before he joined the rebellion. The last gift Veers ever gave his son. 

_‘Chill out, Skywalker,’_ he thought to himself. _‘Maybe he won't recognize it!’_

“Where did you get this jacket?” Veers asked, grabbing the sleeve. 

Well, shit. 

_‘It's fine!’_ Luke thought. _‘I'll just lie.’_

“Um, it was in a lost and found bin somewhere?” Luke mumbled, turning to face the General. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” Veers scoffed. “Where did you…” he trailed off when his eyes reached Luke’s face. “Firmus,” he said in a clipped tone. “Are you aware that your new friend is Luke Sk-”

“Shush!” Luke exclaimed. 

Firmus nodded. “It would really be best for your personal health if you stopped talking, Max.”

General Veers shook his head. “No. This is my _son’s_ jacket. I know it is because of the poorly covered hole on the collar. Now where the hell did you get my rebel son’s jacket?”

Luke bit his lip, and glanced around the bridge. It was quiet again, and the officers were glancing at them. 

“Don't you all have something to do?!” Piett exclaimed. 

The Imperial’s immediately got back to work, and Veers stared at Luke desperately. “Is he… my son, is he-”

“He's alive,” Luke squeaked. “And he told me not to tell you about this one thing if you saw me, and I won't, but he didn't really say anything about telling you that he’s _on _the ship, so I'm kind of at a loss here-”__

__“He's on the ship?” Veers exclaimed._ _

__“Yeah…”_ _

__“Where?”_ _

__Luke frowned. “Are you going to hurt him? I mean, you two haven't seen one another in three years, I don't-”_ _

__“Is he in the detention center? If he is being interrogated, so help me god-”_ _

__“No, but he was for a while. He didn't even want to tell them his full name, because of the whole ‘my dad’s your general’ thing, so-”_ _

__“He was interrogated?!” Veers shouted._ _

__Luke flinched. “Yeah, kind of…”_ _

__Veers turned on his heel, marching towards the exit of the bridge. “I'm going to kriffing murder whoever-”_ _

__“Uh, Vader kind of already did,” Luke interrupted. “Which was kind of traumatizing, actually-”_ _

__“Gentlemen, can we please have this discussion elsewhere? Preferably not on my bridge,” Piett said calmly._ _

__“Hush, Firmus,” Veers said. “This is my son we’re talking about; no one cares for your stupid bridge.”_ _

__Piett gaped at him, and Luke frowned. “There's no need to be rude, General. Don't worry, Piett, I care for your stupid bridge.”_ _

__Piett stared at him incredulously. “You’re not helping, Luke, but thank you.”_ _

__“I repeat,” Veers said, “where. Is. My. SON?!”_ _

__Luke bit his lip. “Medbay.”_ _

__“Do you know how many medbays there are on this ship?”_ _

__“Um, it's a smaller one! There's only like three beds and it's a few corridors away from the…”_ _

__General Veers turned on his heel and ran out the door. Luke stared at him for a few seconds and sighed._ _

__“I can't run in these boots, they're still too stiff,” he muttered, reaching down to slip his feet out of the militaristic boots._ _

__Piett frowned. “What do you mean, run?”_ _

__Skywalker chased after Veers, sliding on the pristine floors of the Star Destroyer in his socks. In the back of his mind, Piett recalled Vader’s threats of what would happen if he lost Skywalker._ _

__“Captain, you’re in charge of the bridge,” he shouted. He took off running after Skywalker, and couldn't help but think that this was _way_ below his pay grade._ _

____________ _

__

__Luke slid into the medbay just after General Veers arrived, with Admiral Piett close on his heels. Veers gasped at the sight of his son, tears blooming in his eyes._ _

__“He’ll be alright,” Luke said cautiously. “Honest. He’s got a couple broken ribs, and a lot of bruises, but he’ll be okay.”_ _

__Veers scoffed. “No father wants to see their child unconscious on a hospital bed, Skywalker. Especially when said father hasn't seen their son in three years because of a stupid political disagreement.”_ _

__Luke winced in sympathy, and walked over to the right side of Zev’s bed, sitting down beside him. “I can't imagine how that feels,” he said, suddenly feeling bad for his own father. “You should sit down. The droid said he should be awake in 12 hours, and that was, according to the chrono, an hour and a half ago.”_ _

__Veers took a deep breath and slumped into the seat across from Luke. “Why didn't he just tell the interrogators to call for me?” he mumbled. “I would have come for him in an instant.”_ _

__Luke smiled gently. “Yeah, but-”_ _

__Their conversation was interrupted when the doors swished open and Admiral Piett burst into the room, panting. “When I said that we should take this conversation elsewhere,” he said as he glared at them, “I did _not_ mean for the two of you to run around my ship like she’s a playground.”_ _

__Luke laughed apologetically. “I'm sorry.”_ _

__“My apologies, Firmus,” Veers said, still not taking his eyes off of his son._ _

__Piett sighed, and sat in the chair next to Veers’. “So this is Zev,” he said as he took in the man laying on the bed._ _

__“This is Zev,” Veers nodded._ _

__Piett cocked his head and stared at the boy. “How did the two of you meet?” he asked Skywalker._ _

__“Uh, three weeks or so after Zev joined up, there was a party. It was super crowded, and it wasn’t really Zev’s scene. He gets—”_ _

__“—anxious in big groups of people,” Veers nodded. “His mother used to be able to calm him down, but…”_ _

__Piett winced at the mention of Veers’ dead wife. It was a soft spot for Maximilian; he hardly ever brought her up, especially to Piett._ _

__“Yeah,” Luke mumbled sadly. “Anyways, a bunch of people were talking about how there were no good Imperials in the galaxy. Of course, Zev got fired up on your behalf. I got him out of there before anyone did anything too stupid.”_ _

__Veers shook his head, staring at his son. “The amount of trouble he gets himself into… bar fights, the rebellion, dating Luke Kriffing Skywalker—”_ _

__Luke gaped at him. “How did you know we’re—”_ _

__“It’s obvious from the way you look at him. Don’t think I’m happy about it, Skywalker. No man is good enough for my son, much less a hypocritical Jedi who damages Imperial property in his free time.”_ _

__“Alright, I’m about to say something and regret it real quick, but I’m doing it anyways. Let me apologize in advance.”_ _

__Piett groaned, dread building up in his guts. “Just spit it out, Luke.”_ _

__“Gladly. Listen, Veers, you might not like me, but at least I was _there_ for him. Where were you? Shooting at rebels who, for all you knew, could’ve been your son? You killed a thousand of our troops on Hoth! What if Zev had been shot down by your AT-AT? What would you do with yourself then?!”_ _

__“You think I haven’t thought about that?!” Veers exclaimed, jumping out of his seat to lean over Luke. “Do you honestly believe that I don’t worry about that every Kriffing day? I didn’t want this. I just wanted him to be _safe_. That’s all any parent wants for their child.”_ _

__“I know that! But Zev wants a father, not an enemy. We already have enough of those, thanks to your ‘glorious Empire’.”_ _

__Piett grimaced, and held up a hand. “Please, let’s try to talk this out without killing each other. Max, he has some good points, but you did the best you could. Luke, you don't know what Zev was thinking. You don't have a father on the other side of the war.”_ _

__“I would not say that, Admiral,” a baritone voice drawled from behind them. The Imperials jumped, but Luke just rolled his eyes._ _

__“Father, why must you be so dramatic?” he sighed._ _

__Veers gaped, and Piett tilted his head. “Ah,” he said semi-hysterically. “Well now I see the irony.”_ _

__“Kriff,” Veers breathed shakily. “Kriffing Corellian Hells.”_ _

__“Indeed,” Vader intoned. “Young one, I did not intend for them to learn of our relationship so quickly.”_ _

__“Yeah,” a voice mumbled from the bed. “Having my dear old dad meet my darling fiance this soon wasn't exactly planned for me either, but hey, it’s a good day for surprises.”_ _

__Veers spun, staring at his newly-awakened son in the eye disbelievingly. “ _Fiance_?”_ _

__Vader’s vocoder seemingly malfunctioned as he stuttered, “D-dad?”_ _

__Luke smiled winningly as he slid into the bed next to Zev. “Did I forget to mention that we’re engaged?”_ _

__“Engaged?” Veers said, choking on the word._ _

__“Cover your ears, little one,” Vader warned Luke._ _

__“What?” he said. “No.”_ _

__Vader sighed, the vocoder translating it as a static whir. “Very well.’_ _

__Veers and Piett watched in amused horror as Vader spit out a slew of Huttese curses. Veers, who didn't speak the language, was unsure of what he had said, but based off of the look on Piett’s face, it wasn't good. Luke laughed at the words that spewed out of Vader’s vocoder, and then turned his attention back to Zev._ _

__“How do you feel?” Luke asked him as Veers and Vader stared at one another in shock._ _

__“Like I'm flying,” Zev giggled._ _

__“That would be an effect of the pain meds,” Piett sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose._ _

__Luke beamed, laughing at Piett’s long-suffering look. “Are you alright, Admiral?”_ _

__“Just fine.” The man sighed again and twisted around in his seat to look between Veers and Vader. The two were still in shock. “Close your mouth, Max,” Piett sighed. “You’ll catch flies.”_ _

__Veers laughed hysterically, his son joining in with him. “Zev is engaged to Skywalker,” he giggled. "Who, coincidentally is Darth Vader’s son, not to mention a Jedi who survives off of magic powers and high treason instead of food and water like the rest of us.”_ _

__He giggled for a second, and slowly, his smile dropped. “Oh karking hells,” he muttered. “Lord Vader and I are going to be related.”_ _

__“Yep!” grinned a way too excited Luke. “We’re all just one big happy family!”_ _

__Veers laughed once, and Piett frowned deeply. “Max,” he said slowly, waving a hand in front of his friend’s face. “Are you alright?”_ _

__Veers laughed again, this time shaking his head. Then, he pitched forward, falling out of his seat. Luke raised an eyebrow, and Zev giggled again as he poked Luke on the shoulder. “Guess what?” he said._ _

__“What?”_ _

__“That’s my dad.”_ _

__Those three words were the last thing Veers heard before he fully succumbed to unconsciousness._ _

__

_________ _

__

___General Veers slowly blinked his eyes open. He was lying on an unfamiliar patch of grass. When he looked up, he saw a large body of water looming out in front of him. Drowsily, Veers blinked, staring blankly at the ocean._ _ _

___He was pulled from his sleep-worn state by the sound of wedding bells ringing in the distance._ _ _

___“Come, General,” said an unforgettable voice from beside him._ _ _

___“Lord Vader,” the general greeted from his place on the ground. He stood up, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes._ _ _

___The Sith was in a black tux, with a white flower pinned to the suit jacket. When Veers looked down at his own appearance, he realized that he was wearing the same clothing._ _ _

___“Come, General,” Vader repeated, stalking off to a large house just off the shore of the water. Veers followed the man, utterly confused._ _ _

___Darth Vader led him to a large balcony that hung off the side of the house. Standing against the railing was Zev. His son smiled brightly in a way that Veers hadn't seen since the boy's mother died. “Dad!” Zev exclaimed. “I was worried you wouldn't make it.”_ _ _

___“As if I would ever miss this,” Veers heard himself say. Oddly enough, he didn't register the words coming out of his mouth as his own._ _ _

___“I told you he'd come,” a coy man called from the doorway to the balcony. Luke Skywalker sashayed to Zev’s side, looping his arm in his own. “Shall we?” Luke asked._ _ _

___“Why not?”_ _ _

___Zev and Luke walked in front of their respective fathers and knelt before them._ _ _

___“Go ahead,” Luke smiled sadly. “It's what you have to do.”_ _ _

___Veer looked down at his son, who’s kneeling figure was shaking violently. The Imperial flinched. He knew exactly what was about to happen._ _ _

___This wasn't the first time Veers had a nightmare related to the murder and loss of his son. In fact, it was a regular occurrence. Veers’ only dislike of his job was the fact that he could, one day, murder a rebel that would turn out to be his son._ _ _

___It wasn't a pleasant thought, but it was legitimate. Veers had been responsible for the death of nearly 1,000 rebels on Hoth. In the months that followed, he was stricken with dreams concerning his child’s fate._ _ _

___No, not dreams. Nightmares was a much better description._ _ _

___Like many of the other thoughts that had plagued his nights, Veers couldn't control the dream. He felt himself pull a blaster from his back pocket, the weapon set to kill. Vader raised a hand, and Veers could hear Luke’s choked gasps through the pounding in his ears._ _ _

___‘Don't do it,’ he wanted to scream. ‘Stop!’_ _ _

___But Veers couldn't hold himself back as he lifted the blaster up to touch Zev’s forehead. The sound of the shot rang through the air…_ _ _

__

_________ _

__

__… and Veers bolted upright in a hospital bed with a scream. Piett was instantly by his side, trying desperately to calm him down._ _

__“Max, stop!” he shouted as Veers clawed at his arms, his fingernails nearly drawing blood. “Stop this, you’re hurting yourself. Veers! Max!”_ _

__“Dad,” Zev shouted from across the room. The sound of his son’s voice finally broke Veers out of his trance._ _

__“Y-y-you're alive,” he sighed contentedly. “Thank the Force.”_ _

__Zev cocked his head, pouting. “I thought you didn't believe in the Force!”_ _

__Veers looked at his son, noting the dilated pupils and hazy look in his eyes._ _

__“Pain meds?” he sighed._ _

__Piett grimaced. “Pain meds.”_ _

__“He always did have an exaggerated reaction to those. Once, he broke his arm, and the meds they gave him when they set his bones made him woozy for a week.”_ _

__Piett chuckled, more than used to Veers’ tales of his child’s exploits. While Veers wasn't happy with Zev’s choices in life, he still loved to revel in old memories of his son’s childhood. “You love him more than life itself, don't you?”_ _

__“Of course,” Veers said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the galaxy. “How could I not?”_ _

__Vader glanced at Luke, who smiled at him with a light blush crowning the tips of his ears. Zev smiled brightly at Veers, who grinned back. “By the way,” Luke said, “I have an idea.”_ _

_________ _

__

__Ten days later, the _Executor_ landed on the planet Calliope, right outside of the rebel base. _ _

__The crowd of rebels stared at the ship in shock, Leia and Mon Mothma at the forefront of the crowd. Slowly, the airlock dropped open, and a group of five people walked confidently down the slope._ _

__The rebels gaped as Luke Skywalker and Zev Veers led Admiral Piett, Darth Vader, and the Butcher of Hoth to the gates of the base._ _

__“Hey!” Luke beamed. “Want a couple extra fighters?”_ _

__Mothma sputtered, “W-what is the meaning of this, Commander?”_ _

__“.....That’s a long story.” Luke replied, looking at the rest of the group. “But let’s just say that we all found that we had a little something in common.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! My modern AU is complete and needs to be edited (FYI its also Zev/Luke), but will most likely be out either tomorrow or Sunday. Then, my King Luke AU will come up right afterwards. I'm this close to leaving the next oneshot on a cliffhanger, so comment or feel the pain! (FYI, I just texted a friend saying 'one sec' and sec autocorrected into Zev. Becca, you're right, I do need a break from him!! :(((
> 
> Also, I'm thinking of the following for future oneshots:
> 
> E. 2nd part of the surgeon au, which was suggested by **ToManyFandomss101**  
>  F. Rebel youtube, where Luke does youtube videos for propaganda and vader watches them all, also suggested by **ToManyFandomss101**  
>  G. Luke saves Vader, suggested by **PolinoidJuice**  
>  H. Luke, Piett, and Vader are stranded together after a shuttle crashes  
> I. Piett's young nephew stays on the _Executor_ and Luke babysits  
> J. Luke is a child and grows up with Piett as his babysitter  
> F. Just now suggested by my beta: Modern Au, Vader is VP, luke is in capital for school trip. ding dong ditched Vader's house, gets caught, identity (and maybe relationship wl Zev) reveal and then visible confusion 
> 
> Whoever can guess my age correctly gets their choice posted first!
> 
> (p.s.: be happy!)
> 
> (p.p.s.: Holy shit this just reached over 1100 hits and I opelwbdownrkbfkwkwnwjrj THANK YOU ALL I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!)


	5. Coffee, College, and Calamity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College!AU with Vader being an Idiot Professor, Luke being a Confused Cinnabon, Zev being a Flirtatious Fan, and Ahsoka laughing in the background. Also there's coffee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, I had total writers block for a bit when I was writing this, so be thankful that I live close enough to Canada that I can get Tim Hortons, which both sparked my creativity and kept me up until 3:30 AM. Sorry to all you Dunkin' Donuts fans, but it's far superior in every way.
> 
> At first I wasn't sure what I'd do with this one, but C O F F E E helped a lot. And so, I give you... BARISTA COLLEGE ONESHOT!
> 
> Happy reading!

Luke sighed heavily as he tied the apron tightly around his waist. The coffee shop logo was printed on the middle of the obnoxious orange apron, which stood out against Luke’s all-black outfit. 

“Act a little more excited, why don’t you?” his boss Ahsoka said to him, beckoning him over to the counter. “The first day of your second semester is over. It’s that something to celebrate?”

“It would be,” Luke groaned, “if it weren’t for the fact that tomorrow my schedule is fully loaded, and I have a three hour lecture from Darth Kriffing Vader!”

Ahsoka winced. “Ouch. I didn’t know you were taking Vader’s class.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, but my old professor retired mid-year, and all of his students are being split between Professor Piett and Professor Vader’s classes. I was hoping to take Piett’s class and have Mon Mothma’s political science class when Vader’s would have been, but her class is full. Why are so many people into political science? Politics are stupid!”

“Then why did you sign up for it in the first place?”

“N-no reason. Just figured I should branch out a bit.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” she laughed. “Did it have anything to do with the fact that a certain… Zev Veers takes that class?”

“No,” he mumbled. 

“Aww, Lukey’s got a crush!” she crowed. 

“I’m 18. I’m too old to have a crush!”

“Whatever you say.” The bell of the coffee shop rang loudly, and Ahsoka sighed, stepping into the back room of the shop. “You know I love listening to the Skywalker Soap Opera, but put on a smile for the customers, alright?”

Luke nodded, stepping up to the register with a bright (but forced) smile on his face. The customer, a middle aged man with greying blonde hair walked over to the counter, gazing at Luke with an obvious air of superiority. 

“Welcome to Rebel Rousers Coffee! What can I get for you today?” he asked. 

“One black coffee,” the customer said in a monotonous voice. 

“Alright, sir! Small, medium, or—”

“Large.”

Luke nodded, grabbing a cup from behind the counter. “Name, please?”

He sighed, glaring at Luke as if he should know the man’s name on sight. “Vader,” he snapped. Luke froze. 

“As in… Darth Vader?” he asked, faking disinterest. 

Vader’s glare intensified. Luke flinched and tapped a few keys on the register. “That’ll be $3.89, sir.”

He silently passed Luke a twenty, and Luke hastily gathered the change and printed out the receipt, desperate to get away from the professor. 

“16 dollars and eleven cents!” he smiled nervously, handing him the receipt. 

Vader raised an eyebrow. “I'm a college professor,” he sarcastically replied. “I think I knew the change.”

Luke winced, and turned to fill up the man’s cup with strong black coffee, wincing at the bitter odor. Luke couldn't take his coffee black; he needed about a thousand packets of sugar in each cup. Still, he knew how to make a wicked cup of black coffee, so he quickly did his job and handed Vader the cup, placing a protective lid over the scalding liquid. 

“Have a good day, sir,” he said tightly. 

Vader scoffed, turned on his heel, and left the shop. Luke watched him go bewilderedly. “He never said thank you,” Luke mumbled to himself. 

“He doesn't seem like the type of person who would,” a voice called from the other side of the counter. 

Luke whipped around to look at the register, and realized that in his haste to make Vader his coffee, he completely missed the new customer that had walked through the door. A… familiar customer. 

Zev Veers was looking at Luke from the other side of the counter. “Hey,” he smirked, noticing Luke's shock. “Don't worry, I'd be distracted too if I had to deal with a customer like that.”

He laughed nervously. “Yeah, same!”

Zev’s brow furrowed. “You already were distracted…” 

“Uh, I-I… um, well…” Luke groaned, smacking his head with his hand. 

Zev chuckled, and said, “It’s alright. Wanna try again?”

Luke nodded, staring at his shoes. “Hi, welcome to Rebel Rousers Coffee. What can I get for you today?”

“What would you recommend?”

“Uh… a peppermint latte, I guess.”

“Excellent! Two medium peppermint lattes, please.”

The barista nodded, dismayed at the word ‘two’. Zev must have a boyfriend--or worse, a girlfriend--who he was ordering for. He rang up the cost of the drinks, and said, “That’ll be $10.24.”

Zev beamed at the shorter man, and handed him a ten and five ones. “Keep the change,” he winked. 

Luke blushed, trying desperately to keep his knees from buckling. He bit his lip tightly, and grabbed two cups to make Zev’s drinks. 

“So how long have you been working here?” Zev asked. 

“Um, just this last semester,” Luke mumbled as he brewed the coffee. 

“Ah. What are your shifts like?”

“I work every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday from 5 o’clock to 7.”

“Good to know. I'm guessing you go to school here?”

Luke blushed again, nodding as he avoided Zev’s eyes. “Yeah, I'm a business major. For the past semester I've been learning from Professor Kenobi, but he retired, so the professor that just left is giving a three hour lecture tomorrow, and he doesn't know I'll be there. From the look on his face earlier, I don't think he’ll be pleased.”

“I'm sure he’ll love you. I wouldn't blame him.” 

If Luke had been looking at Zev, he would’ve caught the appreciative look the man gave him. “I don't know…” 

“He will,” he nodded as Luke handed him the two lattes. Oddly, though, he only took one. “Keep it,” he said to Luke with a confident smile. “See you soon, dollface.”

Luke’s face, which was already bright pink, flushed even harder, turning an unnatural red hue. Before he could respond, Zev swept out of the room, waving to Luke as he left. The door slammed shut behind him, and Luke whimpered, staring at the latte in his still outstretched hand. 

Ahsoka poked her head out of the back room, smirking. “Damn,” she said, glancing at his bright red face. “That, Skyguy, is what we call ‘instant gratification’.”

Luke frowned. “What?” 

“First you had a shitty customer, who refused to say thank you. Then, you get a hot guy who tips well and buys you drinks. _Instant gratification.”_

Luke pouted at her. “That was embarrassing! I couldn't even look at him without turning into a tomato.”

“At least you could talk to him,” she shrugged. “He's cute.”

“Yeah, I'm well aware of that.”

“You need to calm down. Look at you! You look like you went to the beach and put sunscreen everywhere but your face.”

“I can't calm down! My math professor (who is a literal genius and famous billionaire who teaches college kids because he gets ‘bored’) probably hates me, and my crush-”

“I thought it wasn't a crush.”

“... you suck.”

Ahsoka laughed and shook her head, her tight dutch braids with blue streaks whipping from side to side. 

“You’ll be fine. Believe me, it’s physically impossible to hate you, or even dislike you. Just give Vader your puppy dog eyes and you’ll be fine.”

“I am _not_ giving anyone puppy dog eyes. I don't have puppy dog eyes!”

“Sure.” 

“I don't!”

“Shut up and drink your latte, Lukey.”

Luke frowned and took a sip from the latte, glaring at her the entire time. 

It wasn't until he had finished the entire drink that he realized he had written Zev’s name on the side without being told.

Hot guy, 1. Farm boy, 0.

________

“He probably thinks I'm a stalker!” Luke wailed, flopping onto the bed of his dorm room. 

Wedge, his roommate, rolled his eyes. “Please. He's the most well-known guy on campus. I'm sure he's used to people knowing his name. And he didn't say anything to you about it, did he?”

“He was probably too creeped out. I would be, if some stranger knew my name.”

“You aren't a stranger; you’ve met before.”

“We bumped into each other when I was setting up my new schedule at the Main Building,” Luke scowled. “We talked for two, maybe three minutes and then he left. Besides, he’s a college senior, and I’m only a freshman. Why would he be interested in me?”

“What, you think he showed up at your coffee shop, gave you a coffee, and flirted with you for shits and giggles?”

“Probably!” 

_“Luke.”_

“What? It’s true! Besides, he wasn't flirting with me.”

“Oh, come on. The winking, the smirking, the constant need to make you blush?”

“It wasn't like that. He was just talking and I was… being shy, that's all.”

Wedge rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, Skywalker.”

“It's true!” Luke defended himself. “You know me. I'm a blushing farm boy, remember?”

“Whatever you say.”

Luke shook his head, resigning to the fact that nothing he said would change Wedge’s mind. He grabbed his five year old laptop from the bedside table and flipped the top open. 

“I have a paper to write,” he said to Wedge as he typed away on the keyboard.

“Ignore the truth all you want, Luke,” his roommate replied solemnly. “Soon enough you’ll realize that it’s not impossible for people to want you.”

Of course, Luke ignored him. He tilted his head, gnawing on his lip as he puzzled the best way to transition from one paragraph to the next. He was a business major, but had decided to take a Psych course for a semester to see where it led him. The paper was on dream interpretation, something that had always interested him. 

A yowl sounded from the left side of his bed, and Luke glanced over to shush his cat. “Quiet, Artoo. You’re not supposed to be here, remember?”

The black and white cat meowed loudly, and Wedge snorted out a laugh. Luke shot him a quick look of pure, unadulterated betrayal before scooping the cat into his arms and holding him close. 

Artoo purred contentedly, and Luke laughed. “Were you cold? I don't blame you. It's freezing here.”

Empire College Campus resided in a small town called Hoth in the northernmost part of the country. The temperature never rose past 70 degrees, and rarely did it ever reach that height. It was still winter, so there were constant snowflakes floating in the sky. The sun was hardly ever in sight, and it rarely came out for more than five minutes before receding back behind a flurry of snow. 

Luke had grown up in a warmer city, and wasn't used to the cold weather of Hoth. He was almost always wearing oversized sweaters and long pants in an effort to keep warm. 

Regardless, Empire College was the best university in the country, and the most competitive to get into. Luke had gotten a full ride on a math scholarship, but worked at the coffee shop to save money for an apartment so he could move out of the dorm rooms. 

He, Wedge, Luke’s classmate Leia, and Leia’s boyfriend Han were planning on renting a three room apartment together. Leia, still a freshman, already had a paid internship in Senator Mon Mothma’s office. Wedge and Han, both of which were getting a Engineering degree, worked as handymen on the weekends. 

Luke had crunched all of the numbers, and he was certain that they would have money to rent an apartment for a year by the end of the semester. But college rules forced all freshmen to reside in the dorms. Since Luke and Leia were still in their first year, they couldn't rent an apartment until the next year. 

Luke couldn't wait for that day. His cat, Artoo, couldn't wait either. Technically, there were no animals allowed in the dorms. But when Luke found the poor cat stranded in a gutter as winter was just setting in, he refused to abandon him.

Instead, he bought the malnourished cat a dark blue collar and snuck him into the dorms. Artoo was a poorly hidden secret, but a secret nonetheless. 

And he needed his job to pay for Artoo’s litter and food, and to save up for the pets-allowed apartment they would surely own. 

He needed his job. 

That was a fact Luke reminded himself of several times over the next few days. 

________

Luke shrugged on his coat, and slid his feet into a pair of cheap winter boots he had bought at a Walmart down the street from the university. Summoning his courage, he walked out the door of his dorm room, making sure that Artoo didn't run out behind him. 

He was walking to the Executor, the freshmen’s nickname for the business building of campus. Empire College had its name for a reason; the campus was sprawled across a whopping 27 square miles of land, taking up much of the town it was based in. Thankfully, though, the Executor was barely two city blocks away; Luke wouldn't have to walk too far in the snow. 

He pulled his winter coat tightly against his body and walked down the stairs of the dorm building until he finally bolted out the door and hurried to the Executor.

The wind and snow gnawed at his face, the only exposed part of his body. Luke shivered as he walked through the groups of students on the walkways, wishing he had close friends to stick with him in Vader’s class. But alas, all the people he knew well from his old class were shoved away into Piett’s group, and Luke was squished with the rest of the class under the critical eye of Darth Vader. 

After five minutes of being battered by the wind, Luke burst through the door of the Executor, his wet boots squeaking on the floor. For a second, Luke nearly slipped on the wet tile, his arms waving in the air to keep his body upright. Thankfully, though, he found his balance and cautiously walked to room 30B. 

The lecture wasn't meant to begin for another five minutes, so Luke had time to get his materials settled and to find a seat. 

The room was, like most lecture halls, taller at the back than it was at the front. At the bottom of the sloped room was a large floor with chalkboards and a projector screen across the wall. There was a large oak desk in the center of the floor. Sure enough, standing beside the desk with his arms crossed was Professor Vader. Luke shivered and this time it wasn't because of the cold. 

He slipped into a seat in the corner of the third row, taking off his yellow coat and leaving it on the chair. The large, blue knit sweater that Aunt Beru had gifted him for Christmas years ago was hanging off his frame, and he pushed the long sleeves back so he could use his hands to pull a green notebook out of his bag. Green was for all of his Vader-classes. Blue was for Professor Kenobi’s, before he retired. 

He grabbed a black pen from his bag, twirling it around in his fingers. 

“Skywalker!” a voice shouted from the back of the classroom. The call broke through the mumbles and whispers of the students around them. 

Luke spun around to look at the girl who had called his name, promptly dropping his pen on the floor. The chatter of the class continued around him, oblivious to Luke’s shock.

“Leia?” he asked. “What are you doing here? And since when do you call me Skywalker?”

“Since it’s your last name, Einstein,” she said, walking down the rows of stairs to meet him. “Besides, it’s on the back of your sweater.”

“Oh… right.” Luke vaguely recalled Beru stitching his name on the back like it was a jersey. _‘You lose things too often,’_ she had told him. “Wait,” Luke paused. “What are you doing here?”

“Can't a girl visit her best friend at his new class?”

“Not you. You have a political science class in ten minutes.”

“I'll walk from here,” Leia shrugged. “Anyways, you left this in my dorm when you were studying the other day.”

She handed him a familiar lightning blue notebook. Luke sighed with relief. “I thought I-”

“Lost it? I figured. Mara was about to throw it out, but don't worry, I only saved all of your information for the past semester. No biggie.”

“Thank you so mu-”

“You're welcome, but I have to go. Class in ten minutes, remember?”

“Right. Have fun in Mothma’s class.”

“You got it,” she smiled. “Honestly, I don't know how that woman does it. College professor and Senator at the same time?”

“She's awesome,” Luke nodded in agreement. “Good luck.”

“As if I need it,” Leia grinned, turning away from Luke. “See you later, alligator!”

“After a while, crocodile!” Luke watched her go, and turned back around to face the front of the room, greeted by Vader staring at him in shock. He blinked at the professor, before he thought desperately of something, anything, that would allow him to avoid Vader’s eyes. 

After thirty seconds of staring at one another, Luke recalled the pen that he had dropped when Leia had called his name. “Pen,” he mumbled as he dropped to his hands and knees on the floor.

He quickly snatched the pen off of the linoleum tile and peeked over the countertop desk that helped two rows of seats to separate him from Vader. The professor was still staring at him, and Luke ducked back under the table. He glanced at the clock, and realized that the lecture would start in two minutes. 

He bit his lip, and slowly stood up, keeping his head down. He flipped the green notebook open to the first page, and sat down beside it. Slowly, he reached into his bag and grabbed his computer. He plugged it into the outlet on the top of his desk, glancing up discreetly at Vader. 

Luke sighed in relief when he realized that the professor was looking away from him. The man studied something on his computer, his gaze turned away from Luke. 

He glanced at the rest of the students, who slowly migrated to their seats, and were sitting by the time the clock struck 9. 

As soon as the minute hand hit the 12, Vader nodded to himself and walked forward, launching into a long lecture that he had probably gone through a thousand times. All the while, Luke took notes, anxiously glancing at the clock. There was no doubt in his mind that Vader recognized him from the coffee shop and wasn't exactly a fan of his presence. Luke was truly, royally screwed. 

As soon as the lecture ended, Luke lunged out of his seat, packing away his things. _‘Please don't say anything,’_ he thought to himself. _‘Please don't say anything to me.’_

“Mister… Skywalker, was it?” Vader’s voice called to him. 

Luke froze. Well, shit.

Slowly, he looked up at his professor. “Uh, yeah,” he shrugged. “That’s me.”

Vader stared at him, narrowing his eyes. “And what did you say your first name was?”

“I didn't.” All it took for Luke to elaborate was a raised eyebrow from Vader. “Um, it’s Luke. Luke Anakin Skywalker.”

“Anakin?” 

“My father’s name.”

Vader nodded, as if this was information he already knew but needed confirmed. “What do you know of your father?”

Luke tensed up. “Not much,” he gritted his teeth. 

“Just as I suspected.”

“Look, Professor, I have a class in fifteen minutes across campus, so--”

“That’s a lie. You don't have another class until 1:15.”

Luke froze. Caught. “Fine,” he said. “But I'm getting lunch from the Main Hall, so-”

“Surely you can wait five minutes.”

“My friends will be expecti-”

“Sit, Skywalker,” Vader snapped. On instinct, Luke dropped into his chair, wincing as he did so. 

“What do you want?” Luke spat. “If you're trying to get me out of the class, I won't-”

“I spent a few moments studying your materials from the prior semester.”

“ _That’s_ why you were at your computer after you saw me?”

“Indeed. I was quite surprised with what I saw. Your essays and written works have shown much promise, young one.”

“I'm not young.”

“However, you’ve lacked a proper teacher.”

Luke jumped out of his chair. “Professor Kenobi was a--”

“Foolish man,” Vader sighed. “He was so focused on doing right by everyone that his company went bankrupt and the university was forced to fire the man.” 

“He _retired.”_

“The school board decided that retirement was the best way to explain the professor’s disappearance. In truth, however, poor Professor Kenobi was sacked at the end of the semester.”

“You're lying!”

“Am I, little one? What other explanation could there be for a teacher abruptly leaving in the middle of the year? With no fanfare, or rumors about said retirement beforehand? Truly you cannot be that naive.”

“I'm not little, and I'm not naive,” Luke said sharply, fighting away his frustration. He couldn't afford to get in a fight with a professor who already hated him; it wasn't like Luke was _trying_ to fail Vader’s class. 

“You truly, truly, are,” Vader said. “You don't know what happened to your father.”

“He's dead,” Luke bit out. “He's dead, and I have no idea why you keep bringing him up.”

“He is not.. _dead_ , Luke.” Vader’s expression shifted, his gaze softening. His voice seemed gentler, and for a second Luke thought he could believe him.

But soon enough, reality came crashing back to him. 

“All my life, I've known that my father is dead,” Luke said. “Nothing some stranger says will ever change that.”

Luke slid his bag onto his shoulder and stomped out of the class. 

“Luke, wait!” Vader called behind him. Luke ignored him. Ignored the desperation in his voice, the pure familial longing in the undertones. He ignored it all. 

By the time he got outside and realized that he left his jacket in the lecture hall, it was too late to go back to Vader. Not after that. 

__________

“Hi, welcome to Rebel Rousers Coffee, how can I help…” Luke trailed off when he saw the customer grinning at him. “You!” he exclaimed. 

“Hey, cookie,” Zev smiled. 

“Cookie?”

“Would you prefer ‘dollface’? ‘Sweetheart’? ‘Lo-”

“Cookie is fine,” he rushed to say, a blush burning at the tips of his ears. “Uh, what can I get for you today?”

“What _can’t_ you get for me?”

Luke blushed more, and Zev’s friend elbowed him in the side. “Sorry about him,” the girl said. “He can be… too much sometimes.”

Luke laughed nervously. “Yeah. I've only met him twice, but I learned that pretty quickly.”

The girl smiled. She was young, too young to be a college student. “Try living with him your whole life,” she laughed. “I'm Ellie, I'm his sister.”

Luke beamed at her. _Thank god you're not his girlfriend._ “Uh, what can I get for you two today?”

“S’mores frappuccino, please,” Ellie said. 

“Small, medium, or large?”

“Medium works!”

Luke nodded and grabbed a cup, scrawling SMF on the subject line, and ‘Ellie’ near the top of the cup, with a smiley face beside her name. He set the cup on the counter for the other barista, Ezra, to make. 

“How about you?” he asked Zev shyly. 

The senior beamed at him, leaning against the counter. “I'll have two of whatever you recommend.”

Luke nodded. “Uh, how about a peppermint mocha? It's like a peppermint latte, but chocolatey.” 

Zev smirked. “Sounds perfect. Two mediums, please.”

Luke scrawled the order on two cups, and punched the numbers into the register. “Is that all?”

“Ye-” 

“Zev, can I get a cake pop?” Ellie asked with a smirk. 

Luke stifled a laugh when Zev glared at his sister. “You wait till now to ask?” he exclaimed. “Fine, have your cake pop.”

Ellie stood on her tiptoes and leaned over the counter to whisper in Luke's ear. “Strawberry cake pop, please? And pretend I'm telling you a secret about Zev’s childhood that would be super embarrassing for you to know.”

Luke laughed. “Seriously? You're lying. He totally didn't!”

He punched in a number for the cake pop, and put on a glove to grab the sweet from behind the glass display case next to the cash register. He placed the cake pop in the bag, handed it to Ellie, who was being interrogated by Zev about the whisper, and gave her a quick wink.

“What was that about?” Zev exclaimed. 

Luke shrugged. “Oh, nothing. That’ll cost you $17.84.”

Zev cautiously handed him a twenty, and Luke smirked. “Here’s your change. Your drinks should be right over there.”

And with that, Luke waved them along, and cheerfully greeted the next customer. Hot Guy, 1. Farm Boy, 1. Finally, things were levelling out. 

After Zev and his sister left, though, Ahsoka tapped Luke on the shoulder. “Hot guy took my Sharpie,” she said. 

Luke frowned, glancing at the cup of coffee in her hand. It was one of the peppermint mochas he had ordered for Zev… except where he had written ‘Zev’ in the classic Skywalker Scrawl, there was a black X covering the name. Instead, ‘cookie’ was written in an elegant script, with a heart and a winky face next to it. 

Dammit. Well… Hot Guy, 2. Farm Boy, 1. 

When the line of customers was finished, Luke took a deep swig of the coffee. When Ahsoka saw what was written on the bottom of the cup, she choked on her own breath. 

“What's wrong?” Luke asked confusedly. 

Ahsoka, who was still coughing up a lung, pointed to the cup. Luke looked at the sides, confused. “I don't get it,” he said. 

“B-bottom,” she choked. 

“I know you think I'm a bottom, you've said that before--”

Somehow, Ahsoka’s choking got even worse. She coughed for almost a straight minute, until there were tears in her eyes. Then, she howled with laughter. 

“The bottom of the cup, Lukey!” she chortled. 

Luke blushed, and lifted the cup above his head to read what was written on the bottom. When he did, he understood why Ahsoka had seemed so shocked. 

‘Call me,’ was written next to a phone number. Somehow, two hearts were also drawn on the bottom of the small cup. _‘How he made all the writing fit,’_ Luke would later think, _‘I will never know.’_

_O_N_E__M_O_N_T_H_

_L_A_T_E_R_

“So he hasn't addressed it at all?” Zev frowned ,gently running his fingers through Luke’s hair. 

“No,” the blonde groaned from his place on Zev’s bed. “It's confusing. The first day of class, he tells me my father isn't dead, and the next he ignores the hell out of me for an entire damn month?!”

“And you're still passing the class?”

“That’s probably the most shocking part of all of this.”

“Do you know how hard it is to do well in Vader’s class? This is amazing, Luke!”

“It’s not, though. If and when I start really struggling, I'm going to have to go to… Piett or something, because Vader won't help me. All of the other students at least get criticism before they hand things in, or tips and pointers. I mean, he's strict with everyone, and his standards are crazy high, but he isn't doing any of that for me!”

“And your work not being criticized is a bad thing?”

“Very. Vader is harsh, but a good teacher over all. His expectations are crazy high, but he makes people _want_ to achieve them. He doesn't have any expectations for me whatsoever.”

“Well, what if you’re just meeting all of his expectations?”

“No, he’d still say something to me,” Luke sighed, sitting up and rolling out of the bed. 

“Where are you going?” Zev asked. 

“Piett’s giving an optional lecture for everyone at 10 tomorrow morning, while Vader’s out of town. I need to be there.”

“But it’s the middle of the night, and the campus is three minutes away.”

“I'm getting coffee first.”

“What kind of coffee takes upwards of ten hours to drink?”

Luke beamed at him, slipping on a fleece and a pair of sneakers. “The good kind.”

Zev stared at him as he walked towards the door, mystified by his boyfriend. “Where do you get the good kind?”

Luke smiled brighter. “I know a place.”

________

Coruscant was beautiful. 

_‘The capital of the country. The Skyline City. Perfect for a Skywalker,’_ Luke thought as he hopped out of his car for the first time in eight hours. He yawned, stretching his back. Luke shook out his legs, cracked his neck, and sighed. 

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe this story should have gone in a much different direction… but Luke had spent eight hours on the road, and it was far too late to turn back now. 

Luke snatched the mugs and bag of coffee beans out of his backseat and trudged through the doors of Vader’s 101 floor corporate building. 

“Hi,” he smiled, stepping up to the desk. “Uh, I'd like to see Darth Vader, please.”

The secretary rolled her eyes, as if she gets this all the time. “You can't just _see_ Vader, kid.”

Luke nodded. “Right! Of course. Just one second.”

He whipped out his phone and typed in a few numbers, letting it ring. “Hey,” he said when the person on the other line picked up. “Yeah… yeah, I'm downstairs. I know, she won't let me up… you can't fire her just cause-”

“You said you wanted to see Mr. Vader?” she said. 

Luke smirked, tapping a button on his phone. “That was the goal.”

Five minutes later, Luke was riding up an elevator, shocked that his plan had worked. He hadn't really thought about anything past the front desk, seeing as how his ‘plan’ was to call Han and pretend that he was Vader. But, shockingly, it had worked. 

And now, he had to think about what to say.

Before he could decide on a starting sentence (he was stuck between “Hey, Prof. Haven't seen you in ages!” and “Whoops! This isn't the lobby!”), the doors of the elevator swished open to reveal a living room with a black leather couch, hardwood flooring, a fluffy white carpet, and a staircase leading up to the second floor of the penthouse.

Luke exhaled slowly. “Uh… Professor? Vader? _Vader_?”

“Threepio, I told you, no reporters until--” Vader cut himself off as he walked out of a room beside the top of the stairs. As soon as he saw Luke, he froze. “What are _you_ doing here?”

If Luke had truly focused on Vader’s voice, he would have heard the hidden hope behind his words. He would have heard the need, the love, and the self-hatred burning in his tone.

But Luke didn't focus on his professor’s voice. So, the first thing he could think of to say was, “I drove like 8 hours to get here, pulled an all nighter--which I suppose isn't anything new but still--and deceived a sweet secretary, so pay attention to me for once!”

Vader’s hands were still tying a black bow tie around his neck. He had stopped moving his fingers when he saw Luke, so the man was standing at the top of the stairs, suit jacket in the crook of one arm, note cards in the other. He was… quite literally caught like a deer in the headlights. 

When he finally opened his mouth to muster a response, Luke cut him off. “And why'd you have to come here, anyways? I get that there's some super secretive, important press conference about the future of your company, but why did you have to just… leave without any warning? You owe me--err, your students--more than that!”

“I--” 

“And I get that your company stuff isn't super well known, and can't be told to a lot of people, but we’re _business students._ We need to know how to handle the press! You could've used this as a… a teaching opportunity, or something.”

“Luke-” 

“And don't even let me start on how pissed I still am at you for the… the whole ‘Obi-Wan went bankrupt,’ and the ‘Your father’s alive,’debacle. But mostly I just want an explanation! I was angry at you, and I walked away, which I regretted the next day, but I tried to talk to you and you refused to even look at me for a MONTH, and I-”

“BECAUSE IT HURT TOO MUCH!” Vader thundered, abandoning the tie on the ground. 

Luke frowned. “Why… why would it hurt? I don't understand.”

“I know you don't,” he growled. “Sit. I will brew you some cof--”

“It's fine, I already brought you some,” Luke said. 

Vader furrowed his brow. “Wh-” 

“It’s the brand that we use at Rebel Rousers. I heard that you enjoyed it last time you went, so I… yeah.”

Vader stared at him. “I don't…” 

“We should talk,” Luke said. “Uh, where's the kitchen?” 

Dazed, Vader pointed to a door about seven feet to the right of Luke. Luke shrugged, and walked through the door, assuming that Vader would be right behind him. 

_______

Vader stared at his son’s retreating figure in amazement. He drove eight hours from Hoth to Coruscant, somehow convinced the secretary to allow him into Vader’s penthouse, and brought coffee that he remembered Vader drinking over a month ago.

Luke was… well, he just was. In Vader’s mind, there was no way to explain the boy. Reckless, yet considerate. Impulsive, yet thoughtful. 

He was an enigma wrapped in a riddle that Vader would never be able to solve. 

Deep down, Vader knew that Luke deserved to know the truth. But after the disaster that was the last time they spoke, and the way he ignored his child in the aftermath-- _his baby, her baby_ \--Vader didn't think he deserved Luke’s brightness. 

When he first met his son, it was easier for him to think of the boy as the angry, reckless, emotion-driven child that had stormed out of the lecture hall. Over the course of the following month, though, those beliefs were quickly driven away. 

Empire College Campus was large, but not large enough to avoid the boy completely. He saw Luke smiling and blushing over the counter at Rebel Rousers. He noticed him running through the snow with his hood pulled over his head to avoid the freezing rain. He caught a glimpse of the boy running around with those friends of his; Leia, Han, and Wedge, if memory served. He overheard him talking to his acquaintances between classes, discussing philosophies and ethics involved in the work Vader did. 

It was impossible not to search for his son, _her_ son, in a crowd of students. After a month, it was unbearable.

And then Luke’s Aunt and Uncle came to visit. 

He was out of class for a day (and easily made up the work he missed), and when he came back he seemed more alive than Vader had ever seen him. Even if he _did_ inform Luke of the truth about his heritage, how could Vader compete with that?

So, after that month, he had opted not to try. 

He left the college, planning to submit a formal letter of resignation within the week. He set a date for a press conference that would announce the probable sale of his company. He could live out the rest of his life however he wanted to with the profit he would make from the sale of his business. 

What a boring, unfulfilling way to lead the middle of his life.

And then, Luke arrived. Drove eight hours, deceived a secretary, pulled an ‘all-nighter’, and brought Vader coffee. The good kind, that he would have gone back for had it not been for the very reason of his current midlife crisis. His son. 

Speaking of said child, Luke poked his head through the door of the kitchen, glancing back into the living room. When his sweeping eyes found Vader standing on the steps with a terrifying look in his eyes, he tilted his head. 

“You coming?” he asked. “The coffee’s ready! I used some of your sugar; I hope you don't mind.”

Unbidden, a laugh broke out of Vaders lips. “How much is ‘some’, young one?”

Luke laughed nervously, and retreated back into the kitchen. “You’ll have to come see to find out.”

Vader stared at the door, which Luke had left wide open. 

Why not take the risk?

Slowly, Vader stepped down the stairs and made his way through the door.

___________

Luke, who had been perched nervously on a stool beside the kitchen counter, exhaled with relief when he saw Vader walk through the door, closing it behind him. 

“I thought you were going to call security for a second there.”

“You are lucky that I have abstained from that thought, young one. Surely you do not make it a habit to break into other peoples homes regularly?”

“The secretary let me up,” he weakly defended himself. 

“Ah, leaving a witness to your crime. You need to be more careful, Luke. Not all home owners are so lenient.”

“I didn't break--oh, whatever. We should talk anyway.” 

He pushed a black mug towards Vader, sipping from his own green cup. “So,” he hummed. “I should apologize.”

Vader scoffed. “Apologize? Why should you do that when it is I who… as you would say it, ‘messed up’?”

“Eh,” Luke shrugged. “We both did, kind of. I just stormed out of the room without listening to you, and that was messed up. You didn't talk to me afterwards, and that was messed up. We both messed up, so let's just explain why we did what we did, so we can move on and quit acting like kids fighting in a sandbox.”

Vader spluttered, and Luke sighed. “It's cool, I can go first.”

He took a long, heavy sip from his mug, fighting back a yawn. “Obi-Wan was basically the first person to tell me I had talent. I grew up in a… well, it was a shitty town, and people didn't really care much about education. The fact that I even thought about doing my homework made me… different. Anyways, one day this guy comes along, saying he’s a scout for a college. No one really believed him, but I did my best work anyways.”

Luke took another sip, savoring the taste. 

“Then, it turned out that he was really a scout for Empire College. He got me a full ride  
scholarship; I never would've been able to afford it, otherwise. Even when I was working two jobs. So you telling me that he was basically a failure was more than a little triggering. Then you did the thing about my dad, and I blew up. My dad has always been just a dead guy. As a kid, growing up in a tiny town where everyone knows everything, I… wanted a dad _so bad_ , but, of course, that’s not how it works. So the father thing was the final straw but…”

Vader frowned. “But? Finish your sentences, young one.”

Luke chuckled. _“But_ I can't think of any reason why you'd lie about that. I've seen you teach; you aren't antagonistic, you don't try to pick fights with students. You have high, nearly impossible to reach expectations, but you aren't, by any means, a bad teacher. You wouldn't lie… would you?”

Vader took a deep breath, staring at the boy he should’ve raised. And in one, reckless, Skywalker-Classic… he changed everything he said he would do. 

“No, little one,” Vader said. “I would not lie. Not to you.”

Luke laughed once. Well, it may have been a laugh. It also may have been a sob. Vader fished a handkerchief out of his pocket, but Luke waved him away, rubbing at the tear on his cheek with his sleeve. “Do my aunt and uncle know?”

Vader shook his head. “No. 19 years ago, Anakin Skywalker went into the Witness Protection Program. He was a-”

“Cop,” Luke nodded. “I know.”

“I… I don't believe you do.”

“I was told that he was a cop, and he was shot in the line of duty.”

“He was a cop… of sorts. In truth, your father was a diplomat who would act as a security guard for foreign government officials entering our country under…” 

Luke cocked his head to the side, his coffee long forgotten. “... fishy circumstances?”

“‘Fishy’ may not be the appropriate term, but yes. While he was working, he met a woman. A Queen of a small island by the name of Naboo,” Vader smiled at the memory, a melancholy feeling overcoming him. “They were married in secret, because neither could afford the public scandal that would surely come of their relationship.”

“Wow,” Luke breathed. “Are you… sure about all of this? It seems a little far fetched.”

Vader grinned grimly. “Indeed it is. Nevertheless,” he sighed, “I have proof.”

He stood up, beckoning Luke to follow. He led the college student up the stairs of his penthouse to a small room just left of the door he had come out of when Luke arrived.

Inside the room were piles upon piles of pictures. “Woah,” Luke breathed in awe. 

He grabbed a box and flipped up the top, sifting through the photos. Most of the pictures were of a place with green trees, grass, moss, everything. The water was a perfect, crystalline blue that made Luke gasp. “Where did you go?” he exclaimed. 

“Varykino,” Vader said. “A private home owned by the royal family of Naboo, the Naberries.”

“Was that who my mother was? A Naberrie?”

“Yes, though her queenly title was Padme Amidala.”

Luke blinked. “Amidala… I've heard that before. That’s-” 

“The name brand of my company,” Vader acknowledged. 

Luke paused. “What happened to her?”

“There was a… coup, of sorts, staged by the late Senator Palpatine. Your mother was pregnant with you at the time, and the incident caused her to go through indecent amounts of stress. It was… too much for her,” Vader said, holding back tears from the painful memories.

“You know, I got a scholarship,” Luke said. “I'm pretty smart. And I can see that one thing doesn't add up. How would you know about all this? How would you know about Witness Protection when even my father’s own FAMILY didn't have a clue? When _I_ didn't have a clue?”

Vader stayed silent. Luke sighed, looking back to the photos. After a few more boxes were cleared, he found a familiar face in one of the images.

“I want your story to be true.” Luke lifted the picture next to Vader’s face. “But there's only one way for it to make sense.”

Vader tried to look at the photo Luke was holding, but the boy grabbed his chin and held it straight, his eyes flickering between Vader’s face and that of the man in the photograph. Two minutes passed, then three. Finally, Luke pulled the picture to his chest, and spun it around to face Vader. 

In the photo was a man with honey blonde hair and bright blue eyes standing beside a woman with long, dark curls. 

Luke stared Vader in the eyes and asked, “Are you Anakin Skywalker? Are you my father?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! I should probably add Ahsoka to the character tags. Anyways, comment or the second part of the surgical au will be angsty and Luke and Vader will get into a plane crash, Vader will get PTSD, Luke and Leia will die, then Padme will be revealed to have been alive, and she'll tell Vader that Leia is their daughter and the angst will just continue. 
> 
> So unless you want to read that sadness fest that would make Becca cry, help me choose between:
> 
> E. 2nd part of the surgeon au (with no one except maybe a patient dying), which was suggested by **ToManyFandomss101**  
>  F. Rebel youtube, where Luke does youtube videos for propaganda and vader watches them all, also suggested by **ToManyFandomss101**  
>  G. Luke saves Vader, suggested by **PolinoidJuice**  
>  H. Luke, Piett, and Vader are stranded together after a shuttle crashes  
> I. Piett's young nephew stays on the Executor and Luke babysits  
> J. Luke is a child and grows up with Piett as his babysitter  
> F. Just now suggested by **my beta** : Modern Au, Vader is VP, luke is in capital for school trip. ding dong ditched Vader's house, gets caught, identity (and maybe relationship wl Zev) reveal and then visible confusion
> 
> Whoever can guess my age correctly gets their choice posted first! So far everyone thinks I'm an old lady... little younger people!
> 
> (p.s.: be happy!)


	6. A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Darth Vader arrives on Naboo to kill King Luke Pura, there's something oddly... familiar about the boy. Little does he know, King Luke holds a secret that will change the way Vader views the galaxy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So this is the King Luke fic that was promised a few chapters ago. There might be a part 2 of this, or a new variation, depending on what @ElitaPond decides! Thank you to my beta and Tim Horton's. Sorry for all y'all Dunkin Donuts fans but, again, Tim Hortons is superior to all. 
> 
> Bow down to the coffee gods and enjoy the chapter! <3

Darth Vader stormed up the steps of the Palace of Theed, irked by the familiarity of it. The whole planet of Naboo brought only pain and grief, as it was a constant reminder of _her_. It was a reminder of all that he gave up for the power he had obtained. 

Vader had no doubt that the pain Naboo brought him was the precise reason that his master had chosen him to carry out this mission. Palpatine loved to torment his apprentice, and hide his poorly-veiled animosity towards the younger Sith with praises and claims of friendship. 

Vader, of course, knew that it was all a ruse. 

Nevertheless, he followed his master’s orders and flew to Naboo, ready to punish the king who had caused an uproar on the Emperor’s home planet. 

King Luke Pura was to be arrested for crimes of perjury, failure to report rebel activities, and treason. Suffice to say that while the people of Naboo claimed that the boy was the next Padme Amidala, he did not _quite_ live up to her legacy. 

Vader walked past the guards, who made no attempt to stop him, and barged into the throne room. “King Pura,” he said, igniting his lightsaber, “you are under arrest for treason against our Empire.”

The king, who was seated on the throne-- _her throne, Padme’s throne, not his, never his_ \--sat back and smiled sweetly. “I'm sorry, Lord Vader, but I'm afraid that you cannot do that.”

“My authority is second to no one but our Emperor,” Vader growled. “No puny king who pretends to live up to the legacy of those before him can stop me.”

The king raised an eyebrow, and tilted his head, which forced the large headdress adorning his hair to shift to the side. “I'm sorry, my lord, but I will not bend to the will of a man whose claims are completely unwarranted. Do you have any evidence that I truly committed treason?”

Vader glared at the boy. “I do not need evidence; I have the Force on my side. What do you have?”

The boy grinned. “I have Naboo. My people are loyal to me above the Emperor, as I am loyal to them.”

“You admit that you are not loyal to our Empire?”

The boy smiled calmly. “Lord Vader, I’m afraid that I don’t recall saying that exactly. However, my people come before all else. Those before me, as you put it, would surely understand.”

The child’s fierce words and calm voice reminded Vader of a woman that he would give anything to forget. 

“I have met far better rulers than you, boy,” Vader said coldly. 

King Pura kept his face pulled into a smile, but raised a mocking eyebrow. “If you are referring to my aunt,” he said jokingly, “then I can’t help but agree.”

“I do not know of who you speak, child. I have met _many_ aunts in my lifetime.”

“Ah, but there’s only one Padmé Amidala.”

Vader froze. “Who are you to use that name?”

King Pura was visibly confused. “I—wait, didn’t you read anything about me before you barged in here to arrest me? Before I was elected, my name was Luke Naberrie. Padmé was my aunt. She’s the reason I ran for office… did you not know this?”

Vader growled as he realized what his master had done. He had sent Vader to arrest and execute Padmé’s nephew, who was so painstakingly like her it hurt to listen to him. 

Now that he looked at the boy, he could see many of her features in him. The same nose, stature, and smile that was only given to those Padmé would give anything not to talk to… Vader has hated that smile, even when he was with his angel. Hated how she had to be fake to avoid political persecution. 

He hated it more seeing it on another person's face. 

“You _will_ come with me, child,” he said. “Or it will be your downfall.” 

The king sighed, and shook his head, fidgeting his hands on the arms of the throne. “I’m sorry, Lord Vader. I’m resisting my arrest for your own good. You cannot walk into my palace and force me into a cell without evidence, probable cause, of even a modicum of truth to the statements you’re making. My people would revolt.”

“Why?” Vader shouted. “Because a memory of a Queen long since passed is taken away? You are nothing compared to your aunt.”

The boy flinched, and Vader knew that he had hit a soft spot. 

Of course, he continued to mutilate that soft spot for all it was worth. 

“Padmé Amidala was an angel,” he said bitterly. “You are but an imposter. You were elected because of your relationship to an old figurehead of independence and liberty. Your people do not believe in _you_ , they believed in your aunt! You are nothing but a false hope that will let them down as your reign progresses.”

The king took a deep breath, and stood to his feet. Slowly, he walked over to Vader, fury hidden beneath his royal makeup. “My people are not aware of my relationship to Padmé Amidala. I wanted to be elected by my talent alone; not by the memory of my deceased mot—aunt.”

Vader scoffed, not noticing the child’s slip. “A king that lies to his people is an unworthy ruler.”

King Pura winced, and nodded. “I am aware of that,” he said. “But there were other reasons for my hidden identity.”

“Do enlighten me, King Pura,” Vader said. “You won’t have much time left to do much else.”

King Pura turned away from Vader, and strolled out onto the balcony. “Join me, Lord Vader,” he said, and for a moment Vader thought that there could be a double meaning to those words. But the moment passed, and the Sith walked to stand behind the king on the balcony, lingering in the doorway. 

“You are only delaying the inevitable,” Vader said. “Your arrest—”

“Is ludicrous and unwarranted?” King Pura scoffed. “I agree. Lord Vader, I may not be the most supportive of our Emperor, but I did not collaborate with rebels or commit treason. I would never risk the safety of my people, not for that.”

Vader glared at the ruler. “You will not change my mind, Pura.”

Pura whipped around to face the Sith. “You’re a Sith, are you not? All due respect, my lord, I know what you used to be, and _who_ you used to be. Do I seem like I’m lying? Search your feelings! I’m telling the truth.”

Vader glared at him. “You know _nothing_ , Pura.”

“Apparently, I know more than you do,” he sighed. 

“You must end this frivolous denial of your reality this minute, King Pura.”

“And you must end _yours_ , Lord Vader,” Pura said. “I’m assuming you came here because of a vision… right? Well, your visions aren’t always your own, now are they?”

Vader growled. “It would be wise of you to stop talking. Now.”

Pura rolled his eyes. “Oh, I see past your fancy way of telling me to shut up, Vader. I’m onto something; even you think it, you just won’t admit it.”

“I will not—”

“Just listen, okay?” Pura begged. “Please.”

Normally, Vader would not give into a traitor's demands. He would not listen to a child’s story, or sit through a long winded explanation lined with excuses. 

But for Pura… he did. 

Maybe it was the way he said please. The way he stared up at Vader, just like his aunt had a decade and a half before. Pura’s eyes conveyed Padmé’s last words; _Anakin, you’re breaking my heart,_ she had said to him. 

Maybe it was the Force screaming at him, pounding in his ears, demanding that he hear the teenager out. 

Maybe it was Anakin Skywalker breaking out of the cage Vader had put him in to hear from the last thing he had of his wife. 

Vader will never know why he listened. But he did know that what he heard changed his life. 

“Padmé died from a broken heart,” Pura said, his voice no longer stiff and regal. “She was… heartbroken after Mustafar. I don’t know what went down in that… tenth circle of Corellian Hell, but it left her heartbroken. She survived afterwards for hours but… she couldn’t take it all.” 

Vader stared at him. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” Vader whispered. “She was murdered.”

Pura stepped up eagerly, smiling. “She wasn’t, though! I had a dream, the other night… I don’t know who, but Palpatine told someone that they killed her. But they didn’t! My family KNOWS that she wasn’t killed.”

“But I do,” Vader growled. “Because it was _I_ who killed her. I force choked her on that planet, and… and…” 

Pura stepped back in fear, but pressed on. “Well, you didn’t kill her. Because…” the king trailed off, his brow furrowed. 

“Speak up, child,” Vader glared. 

The King bit his lip, and shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m about to tell you. I’ve wanted to tell you for the past six years, and now I can’t even get the words out of my mouth. Great going, Skywalker.”

Vader jolted. “That name no longer has any meaning to me.”

Pura smacked his forehead. “No, I wasn’t talking about YOU-Skywalker, I was talking about…” 

“What?” Vader spat. 

“My aunt and uncle are going to kill me for this,” he said mirthlessly. “And then they’ll bring me back to life so Pooja and Ryoo can smack me around—”

“The point, boy.”

Pura took a deep breath and nodded. “The point,” he said, “is that I know Padmé didn’t die on Mustafar. I know you didn’t kill her. Because if you had… she wouldn’t have had her baby.”

For the second time since meeting the strange King, Vader froze. “What. Did. You. Just. Say?”

Pura chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, she had a baby. Before she… yeah. She had a baby. And that baby was adopted into the Naberrie family, and until he was ten, he didn’t know about any of this. Then, a Jedi—who’s name I will _not_ be telling you—came around and taught the little kid how to shield his mind, thoughts, and how to hide his Force signature. The kid’s shields got so good you couldn’t even tell that he was a… ‘supernova’ of force sensitivity. That’s when the kid found out about Padmé and you and… well, everything.”

Vader stared at him. “This child…” 

“Uh, yeah. When I said ‘great going, Skywalker’ I wasn’t talking about You-Skywalker. I was talking about… Me-Skywalker.”

“Luke,” Vader said slowly. “Your first name is Luke. She was right… you're a boy.”

Luke smiled. “Wasn’t she always right?”

For the first time in 16 years, Vader laughed. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, she was.”

Luke beamed at him, and grabbed his hand. “Unfortunately, there’s something I should warn you about.”

Vader frowned. “What is it, young one?”

Luke’s nose wrinkled. “I’m hardly young.”

“To me, you are,” Vader said, stroking his child’s cheek. 

Luke sighed. “Well, you should know that the Emperor is most likely planning on killing me.”

Vader froze. “What?!”

“Yeah… last time he came to Naboo, we met. I think my shields slipped, and he figured out that I was… you know. Padmé’s son, your son, incredibly force sensitive, and incredibly against Palpatine. The annoyance and resentment was hollering at me through the force. He tried to hide it, but he didn’t do a very good job.”

“So he attempted to assassinate you?!” Vader exclaimed. 

“Well, you _were_ sent here to kill me. Palpatine probably figured out that as a political symbol and your force sensitive son, I had to be… eliminated. I’m a threat to his power… right?”

“Indeed you are, young one,” Vader said. “Indeed you are.”

“So… what do we do? I meant what I said earlier; my loyalty is to Naboo and I can’t leave. Not now.”

“I will find a solution. For now, we must speak with your family. I need to know why _exactly_ they thought it was so wise to hide you from me.”

“Hey!” Luke protested. “You can’t hurt them. They were only trying to protect me.”

“From your own father?!” Vader said, appalled that Luke thought he needed protection from him. 

“Okay, let's make one thing clear,” he demanded. “I don’t regret my childhood. Do I think you should’ve been allowed to be a part of it? Yes. But do I wish it never happened? No. It’s over, it’s done, and now we have to focus on the future. Besides, you don't know that I would’ve been safe with you. Palpatine is clearly after my head; he might’ve decapitated Baby-Me before I could become a threat. Or worse, he’d make you do it.”

Vader growled. “I would kill him before I let him even touch you.”

Luke smiled. “I know that now. But he’s powerful and really sneaky. He managed to overthrow a government that had been in place for a _millennium_. How hard is it to kill an infant? They’re very fragile and easily breakable.”

“True,” Vader nodded. “That is an excellent description of yourself.”

Luke frowned. “As a baby, sure, but now I'm not!”

“Yes, you are, young one,” Vader admonished. 

“I am the king of an entire planet!”

“Fragile.”

“Not to mention a powerful force sensitive.”

“Breakable.”

Luke gaped at him. “I’m not breakable.”

“Of course not.”

“Thank you.”

“Just incredibly fragile.”

Luke fought the urge to pout, and changed the subject. “Well, I guess you can talk to my family, but if you hurt them it’s all off.”

“Hush, young one,” Vader said. “I will not injure your family.” _Even though they stole you from me and robbed you of the life you were meant to have._

Luke smiled again. “Good. Well, in that case… I need to change my clothes and… probably get some of this makeup off, but… let’s go see my family.”

—————

The Naberrie’s lake house on Naboo, Varykino, was the same as it had been years ago, when Vader and Padmé had gotten married. The lake was beautiful, the grass was greener than ever, and the home itself was stunning. 

Luke walked into the house, knocking on the door sharply before letting himself in. “Grandma? Auntie Sola? I’m home!” he called, stepping to the side so Vader could walk into the familiar lake house. 

There was no answer. “You may be home, young one, but it seems that they are not,” Vader said. 

Luke smiled and slipped his shoes off, leaving them in the doorway. “They might be out to the market. With us, that’s a trip that calls for the whole family. Grandpa and Grandma have to make sure that Auntie Sola and Ryoo don’t get sidetracked with helping poor vendors, and Pooja and I normally go along to make sure that we don’t forget to buy anything.”

“Of course,” Vader said, clearly amused. 

“Well, let's sit and talk while we have time,” Luke said, motioning to a sofa in the next room over. 

He sat down, and Vader followed him into the room and stood across from him. “So,” Luke said. “What have you been up to?”

“I'm sorry?”

“Well, I haven’t met you for 16 years. What have you been up to?”

“I am far more interested in your exploits, young one.”

Luke laughed. “Sixteen years of Naboo isn’t too interesting.”

“You’re a king, Luke. That is no small accomplishment.”

Luke blushed, and stared at his feet. “It’s not that big of a deal. I just… wanted to make a difference.”

“Your mother was the same way.”

Luke’s eyes snapped up to stare at Vader. “What was she like?” he asked. “Grandma and Grandpa don’t like to talk about her much. When I ran for king, they… barely approved.”

“They should not have tried to hold you back,” Vader muttered. 

“Well, they didn't hold me back. They helped with the campaign but… didn't think it was a good idea. I'm pretty sure they hoped I would lose. They didn't want me to end up like my mother, or to be found by you and Palpatine… which I guess was an incredibly legitimate fear now that I think about it.” Luke’s frown increased. “What would you have done if Palpatine got to me first?”

Vader growled. “That did not occur, and it _will not occur._ Now that I have you, child, I will not so easily let you go.”

Luke nodded to himself. “Thank you, Father.”

“You needn’t thank me for the protection that should have been yours all your life.”

Luke chuckled lightly. “Can’t argue with that.”

Suddenly, his eyes brightened and he popped up off of the couch. “I have an idea!” Luke exclaimed, walking to a closet on the other side of the room. He pulled the door open, and called a small red box to his arms using the Force.

“What is this, young one?” Vader asked, making a mental note to ask Luke about the extent of his training. 

Luke smiled, toting the box over to the couch. He peeled off the protective layer of tape that covered it, and carefully opened the lid of the container. 

“Are you ready for this?” Luke beamed, looking up at Vader excitedly. 

“I’ll admit, you’ve certainly made me curious,” Vader said. 

Luke snatched a small data chip from the bottom of the box. He snagged a holopad from the small table next to the couch, and plugged in the data chip. 

The holiday came to life, displaying a picture of a small, blonde boy with his feet in his mouth. 

“Is that…” 

“Me!” Luke nodded, handing Vader the holopad. “Aunt Sola took a lot of holos of me as a kid. She said that when you found out you could at least see me through—”

Vader crushed the holopad in his hands. 

“—that. What…” 

“My apologies, young one,” Vader said tightly. “It’s apparent that these… holos of yours simply remind me of what was taken from me.”

“Ah,” Luke winced. “Yeah I didn’t think that one through.”

“It is alright, my son. Now, onto another subject; what precisely is the extent of your training?”

Luke tilted his head, frowning at Vader. “What do you mean?”

“What do you know, and how much Jedi indoctrination will I be forced to resolve?”

“Oh, that. Uh, I don't know much, honestly. Be--err, my Master thought it better that I was more… ignorant to the ways of the Force.”

“Another misconception,” he growled. 

Luke frowned. “I don't mind it. I have my whole life to learn more.”

“You may not have if I had followed Palpatine's wishes.”

“Yeah, but you didn't. You listened to me. No harm, no foul, right?”

“I could have _killed you!_ Why are you acting as if--” Vader cut himself off with a frustrated noise that translated oddly through his vocoder. 

“It’s in the past, Father. There’s nothing we can do to change it now. And I don't believe that you could have killed me. I'm certain that a part of you knew who I was the second you saw me. Why else would you have listened to me?”

Vader shook his head, and turned away from him. Luke sighed. “You can't turn away from me whenever I say something you don't want to hear,” he chided jokingly. “That’s not healthy! What would my mother do?”

“I _choked_ your mother!” Vader whirled around to face him. “Until now I was under the impression that I had killed--”

“I know that!” Luke yelled back, jumping to his feet. “But that doesn't mean that the same thing will happen to me. You’ve changed, Father. And don't try to say that can't trust you-”

“You _trust_ me?!” he exclaimed. “Young one, I have killed men--”

“I know,” Luke groaned. “Look, the point is, I've known about this for six long years. I've had six years to think about this, so sit down and listen because I've given this way more thought that you have!”

Vader glanced at him, startled by his demanding tone. Luke looked momentarily shocked too, but he quickly shook it off and stood up straighter in front of Vader. 

“At first, I thought you were nothing but a cold-hearted monster,” Luke said. Vader flinched, but he pressed on. “I mean, you were infamously cruel. How could Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker possibly be the same person?”

He sighed with a shrug, and gave Vader a bashful smile. “But you were never the one I was really afraid of. You know, I used to have nightmares about Palpatine when I was barely seven standard years of age. I've always been terrified of him. So eventually, I thought about the other side of things. Palpatine’s side.

“I realized that he was a master manipulator, who fooled the entire Jedi Order and the Senate, not to mention Padme Kriffing Amidala, into thinking that he was a good man. So, he probably fooled you as well.

“At first, I did a little bit of research into Anakin Skywalker. Basically, if there's a holovid or article about you anywhere, I've read it. I even got a few holocrons from Ahs--someone. And for a while I just couldn't grasp how in the galaxy Palpatine turned you. 

“And then I found out about the Jedi Code. How attachment was forbidden. And so, I guessed that Palpie had threatened my mom, or me, and you… I don't know. But I'm sure that it had something to do with us. So if a man goes to the dark side in order to save his family, that doesn't make him a bad person. You started this all with the right intentions, but your actions just went horribly, horribly awry.”

“That does not excuse-”

“No,” Luke said, cutting him off. “That doesn't excuse it. I can forgive you for what you've done. But Father… when will you be able to forgive yourself?”

They didn't talk much after that.

________

“Hold on, let me get you straight,” Pooja said as she held up a hand. The Naberrie’s (plus Vader) were gathered around the dining room table at Varykino. The Sith had just explained to them his plan to foil the Emperor, and suffice to say, the family was in shock.

“Pooja, nothing about Luke is straight, dear, we’ve been over this,” Jobal chided gently, still shaken from Vader’s explanation of the evening. 

Luke snorted his pear juice out his nostrils, coughing sharply. Ryoo pounded on his back frantically, which didn't help much. 

Ruwee sighed and grabbed a towel from the kitchen to mop up the mess. “Royals are supposed to be graceful? You _are_ the King, aren't you?” he jabbed lightly, earning a wheezy laugh from Luke.

“Don't ask me how,” he mumbled, using the towel to swipe at the juice on his face. “That was--”

“Hilarious,” Pooja laughed. 

“You suck. Oh, uh, by the way, Father,” his tone wavered nervously, “I'm gay.”

Vader nodded. “Thank you for telling me, young one.” 

He placed a comforting hand on Luke’s shoulder, lightly squeezing the yellow coat Luke had tossed on before they left the palace. Luke smiled down at his hands, and Pooja sighed. 

“As heartwarming as that was…” she trailed off. 

“I'll just say it,” Sola fumed. “You came here to kill him for committing treason, which he _did not do_ , realized Luke is your son, and decided to save his life by making him commit real treason?!”

Vader nodded. “That is the plan, yes.”

“Uh, Father? I don't know about this. I mean, I won't leave Naboo until my term is over. I can't just go gallivanting around the galaxy to help you kill Palpatine. Besides, I'm--”

“Untrained,” the Sith sighed. “That, child, is a situation that can easily be rectified.”

“How?” Ryoo frowned. “Palpatine is a jerk, but he isn't an idiot. If you stay here through the next year and a half of Luke’s second term, he’ll know something’s wrong.”

“Indeed he will,” Vader said. “But he cannot take action without proof.”

“Oh, like how you took action without proof when you thought Luke committed treason?” Sola scoffed. 

Vader glared at Padme’s sister with a burning hot vengeance. “Perhaps we would not be in this situation had you given me what was mine from the beginning!”

“Perhaps we would not be in this situation if you had left my sister the hell alone!”

“Father, Auntie Sola, you’re both done,” Luke said in the most diplomatic tone he could muster. “I refuse to sit here listening to the both of you argue like a couple of anooba’s fighting over a ronto.”

“He-” 

“She-” 

“Done,” Luke repeated. “We need to focus on a way to fix this. If we fight with each other, the situation will become that much more impossible to resolve.”

Vader grumbled, and Sola frowned at Luke. “How can we trust him?”

“It is _you_ who is unworthy of his tru-”

Luke stood up, slamming his hands on the table. “Enough! Auntie, you know I love you, but please. You aren't helping! And Father, this… dramatic spiel of yours isn't getting us anywhere. Palpatine could be planning both of our assassinations right now; we can’t afford to lose time arguing over the past.”

“It needs to be addressed!”

“Of course it does, but right now our lives are more important. Now, we need to find an excuse to get Palpatine off of our backs. Any ideas?”

The family spent the rest of the night scheming and talking. Finally, the sun was rising, and Ruwee, Jobal, Sola, Ryoo, and Pooja retired to their rooms. 

Luke lingered in the dining room, eventually slipping out onto the balcony. When Vader followed him, he was greeted by the red-tinged sight of the sunrise. 

“I can't believe we talked all night,” Luke said as he heard his father’s mechanical breaths come up behind him. “This whole situation still doesn't feel entirely real.”

“No, it does not,” Vader acknowledged. 

“This must be so odd for you,” his son marveled, staring up at the man’s black mask. “I knew about us, and it still doesn't feel real.”

“It is certainly an eye-opening experience.” Vader didn't tell his son about his residual anger towards the Naberrie family. He was certain that Luke would not appreciate having knowledge of that feeling.

Luke leaned against the balcony and looked back at Vader. “What will we do once Palpatine is…” 

“Dead?” Vader finished. “We will take the throne, and rule the galaxy together at father and son.”

Luke winced. “I'm already ruling a planet. A galaxy sounds like it might be a little… much, for me.”

“Nonsense. You will take your place with ease, just as your mother would have.”

“But… I don't think my mother _would_.”

“Ridiculous. She was a prominent politician--”

“Who believed in the freedom of the people. I don't… like the Empire, Father. I don't love the way it rules the galaxy with fear.” 

“Fear is the way of the Sith.”

“But I'm _not_ a Sith! And I really wish you weren't, either.”

“Watch your tone, young one.” Vader’s voice was dangerously low. “I have killed men for saying less.”

Luke shook his head. “You don't scare me, Father. And you didn't scare my mother, either.”

“Your mother--”

“--was an amazing, kind, loving woman who would _hate_ the Empire with all of her heart. You know she would!”

Vader turned away from him. “That is not my concern.”

“Look at me!” Luke cried desperately. “Look at me. And think about what I am. I'm a King who lied to his people. I'm a child who didn't have a real childhood because what-if-daddy-hurts-us. I'm a supporter of the Empire… who has a seat waiting for him with the Rebellion’s High Command.”

Vader blinked. _“What_ did you just say?!”

“Well, you came here to kill me because I committed treason,” Luke beamed sheepishly. “I mean, I denied it, but… would now be a bad time to tell you that I actually did?”

Vader’s vocoder crackled as he sighed. “Of _course_ you did.”

“It wasn't that bad! I just… helped them out and sent them resources using my family’s money. I didn't take anything from the people, obviously, but there's a _tiny_ chance that I told them about all of the Imperial operations around my planet so that they could sneak past you and move from one base to another.”

“A tiny chance?”

“Yep! An incredibly small chance. Like, practically nonexistent.”

“But… did you inform the rebellion of Imperial operations?”

“Yeah…” 

Vader sent his exasperation across their newly formed bond. “What am I going to do with you, young one?”

“I don't know. But I do know that you’re _not_ going to put me on that throne. I'll leave if you do.”

“You have far too much of your mother in you.”

“I've been told that I have too much of my father in me,as well.”

Vader stared at him silently for a moment. Too much of his father in him? The boy was a beacon of light. A political figurehead who was loved by all of his people. 

“I have yet to see any of myself in you, young one,” he told the boy. 

Luke grinned. “You'll have lots of time to find it. Even more so if you help me take down the Empire.”

“You don't understand, child. You're asking me to destroy everything I've spent the past 16 years building-”

“And you're asking me to give up on all of my beliefs and values. So, until one of us compromises, we’re at an impasse. And we’re both incredibly stubborn, so I doubt we’ll come to an agreement anytime soon.”

“I suppose stubbornness is definitely a trait of mine that reached you, young one.”

Luke laughed, and turned back to the sunrise, watching the bright orange sun paint the sky. 

“It’s a new day, Father,” he said. “A new beginning. A chance to right everything that went wrong with the Empire, and to make the galaxy into something new. Something better.”

“A new beginning,” Vader agreed. 

As they watched the sun rise over Varykino, father and son knew that after that day, the galaxy would never be the same. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after this, there will be either a part two or a new variation of the King Luke au. TBH right now @ElitaPond is my favorite because I got her onto the Luke/Zev train and she asked for more, which gives me an excuse to put him into another chapter!!! After that will probably be the part two of the surgeon thing, and then Babysitter Piett. 
> 
> Drop a comment if you like coffee and fanfiction! 
> 
> (p.s.:be happy)
> 
> (p.p.s.: i might write something angsty later because i'm sad so i'm sorry if i hurt you with something terribly sad)


	7. For George Floyd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a black man is killed by a police officer, protests break out across the country. Luke, the son of the Vice President, pushes himself right into the thick of things. _Written in memory of George Floyd_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mentions of racism, character death, and a ton of angst
> 
> I know this was suppose to be a King Luke thing, and I'm sorry that didn't happen, but there's some shit going down that needs to be addressed. @ElitaPond, I promise I'll have it out by the end of the week! <3
> 
> This is set in current-times, in the USA, specifically Washington, DC. Vader is the Vice President, and Luke was raised by him. Piett is the awkward, stressed assistant.
> 
> So, for all y'all non-American readers out there, there's some stuff going on in the USA. An innocent man, George Floyd, was killed by a police officer, and protests have been happening across the country. I'm not entirely certain how internationally-known this is, but it's been heavily impacting my life, and I wrote this about it. I wasn't too certain about posting it, because it's a touchy subject, but I wanted to show my support for all the protesters out there, because black lives matter. A lot of the things that occur in this fic are for real; the president had Park Police fire rubber bullets and tear gas at a group of peaceful protesters in Lafayette park. As far as I know, no one died in that scheme, but other people have. A man named David McAtee, who ran a barbeque, was killed. Many people have been. If you ARE attending protests, please, try to remain as peaceful as possible. And stay safe!

“Father,” Luke called as he hurried down the stairs, a frown marring his face. “Did you see this?”

Vader looked up from his computer to see Luke holding a newspaper. Luke folded the paper so the main headline was turned towards his father. The headline (‘ _BREAKING NEWS: Black Man Killed by Police Officers_ ’) was glaring at Vader. 

“When _exactly_ did this occur?” Vader asked. 

“Yesterday,” Luke sighed. “It says that the four officers who… who stood by and WATCHED were fired, and I guess the one who did the actual… _killing_ was arrested.”

“This… this is terrible. But worry not, young one; justice will be served.”

“It's not even that, it's just…” he bit his lip and dropped onto a chair beside Vader. “The man, George Floyd, was black. The cop was white.”

Vader nodded to him in sympathy. “I know, young one. I know.”

Luke blinked once, twice, and a single tear slipped down his cheek. Vader leaned over to wipe the tear off his jawline and stood, awkwardly pulling Luke up to his feet. He encased his son in a hug and winced at the feeling of tears dropping onto his shirt. They stood there for a few minutes, Luke’s head pressing against Vader’s chest. In the silence that followed, Vader couldn't help but think that he wasn't very good at this. 

He could barely understand his son’s sheer emotion when the boy was happy. When he was sad, Vader hardly knew what to do with himself. 

“8 minutes and 46 seconds,” he whispered so softly that it was nearly unintelligible. 

“What was that?” Vader asked, pulling Luke away from him so the boy’s words weren't muffled by the black silk of Vader’s suit. 

Luke cleared his throat. “8 minutes and 46 seconds. That’s how long the cop was kneeling on his throat, even when others on the scene begged for him to stop. Around 5 minutes in, he lost consciousness, but the cop just kept going. What is _wrong_ with people?!”

“Everything, my son. Everything is wrong with people,” Vader sighed. “There are racists in the world, and terrible, awful people. But there is also good. There are people like you, who believe in kindness and peace, who will do anything to make others happy.”

“But do the good outweigh the bad?”

For a while, Vader was still, his deep blue eyes staring sorrowfully into Luke’s. “I don't know, young one. I don't know.”

________

“Ugh!” Luke screamed as he slammed the front door behind him, ripping off the mask he had worn to the grocery store. He dropped a few ALDI bags on the kitchen counter and began furiously tearing food out of the bags. “Unbelievable,” he mumbled to himself. “White supremacist… jerk… fucking bananas…” 

Cautiously, Vader stepped into the kitchen with Piett on his heels. “Are you alright, Luke?” he asked. “I could hear your shout from my office. I believe you’ve concerned Piett.”

Luke winced and opened the fridge door, crouching down to place a carton of eggs on the bottom shelf, not sparing his father a second glance. “Sorry Piett!” he yelled. 

Vader’s assistant sighed. “I'm right here, Luke. And apology accepted.”

Luke jumped in shock and smashed his head into the door of the refrigerator. “Ah!” 

“Are you alright?” the Vice President hurried over to his son. “Do you need an ice pack?”

Luke waved him off with a shake of his head. “I'm fine, Father. Ah, Piett, I… wasn't aware you’d be here.”

The tired man smiled gently. “It's alright, Luke. What on earth happened that would make the sweet Luke Skywalker I know swear about bananas?”

He blushed and rubbed the back of his head. “This idiot at Walgreens.”

“Did he hurt you?” Vader growled, his fists clenched by his sides. 

“No! He was just acting like a jerk. We were checking out and a girl was talking to the cashier about the George Floyd case, and he, _of course,_ decided that he knew more about it than anyone else. He went on about how the cops were just doing their job, and how everyone was overreacting. I, of course, asked him how he could say that with a clean conscience, and he replied that the white cop (I kid you not, he brought up the fact that the killer was white) was like a banana. Apparently, bananas are this dude's favorite fruit.I have no clue how, but he somehow linked a fruit and a cold-blooded killer together in his mind. The Smithsonian should study it. They’d probably have some insane scientific discovery that relates bananas to the white-supremacy assholery gene.”

“Bananas are terrible,” his father deadpanned. His words had the exact effect he wanted. 

Luke laughed, his angry features shifting slightly. “They do! But hey, I'm telling a story here.”

“Of course, young one. You may continue.”

His smile faded, and he shook his head. “Apparently, bananas are the… best fruit in the world. He never elaborated, because another register opened. I bought my things and got out of there as quickly as I could. I can imagine what else he was planning on saying, though.”

“Luke,” Piett sighed, “people like him don't _plan_ anything. They say what’s on their mind, and don't think about the outcome, because they need something, anything, to help them feel better about how pitiful their lives are. They don't have anything special about themselves, so they make it seem like they're part of a race that is above all others.”

“But it's so _wrong_!”

“I know, young one,” Vader said, resting his hand on Luke's shoulder. “But it will get better. I swear.”

Luke looked up at his father, positively dismayed. “Will it?”

_______

That night, Luke barged into Vader’s office, phone in hand. “People are protesting. They’re getting hurt,” he said. “You’re the Vice President. When are you going to address this?!”

Vader looked up at his son. The Vice President was slumped over at his desk, pouring over papers and reports of the protests that had taken the country by storm. He sighed and took off his glasses, placing them gently on his oak desk. 

“Sit,” he said, beckoning to a seat in front of his desk. Luke slowly walked to the seat, his arms crossed over his chest. When he sat, Vader told him, “I'm planning on making an address tomorrow. I support the protests, but if they turn even more violent than they already are, there isn't much I can do to stop police officers from fighting back.”

“And if politics weren't involved? If we were a normal family with normal lives? What would you be saying then?”

Vader raised an eyebrow, and leaned back in his seat. “Fuck the police,” he said simply. 

Luke let out a startled laugh. “Fuck the-”

“Language, little one.”

“ _You_ just swore!”

“I am an adult. YOU are but a child.”

“I'm 22. I’m nearly finished with college! I can drink, drive, and vote.”

“You are _still_ a child.”

Luke sighed, his smile once again shifting into a deep frown. “You’ll make our support for the protestors known?”

Vader nodded. “Yes, Luke. Now, it’s nearly midnight; you need your rest.”

Luke nodded, and stood. “I love you, Father. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, my son.”

_______

“In the past few days,” Vader spoke into a microphone, “it has come to my attention that, despite our hopes, our country is not nearly as free and just as it should be. Our founders gifted us with rights; not enough, but rights nonetheless. Throughout the 244 years in which our country has lived, we have fought, and we have studied, and we have killed, for freedom for all peoples, no matter their race, gender, social status, ethnicity, or sexuality. In truth, however, while women rightfully claimed their right to vote with the 19th amendment just under 100 years ago , gender roles have not yet been destroyed. Likewise, while African American men and women fought for their freedom all those years ago, the way they are treated did not fully improve. Do I believe these protests will finally change that?”

Vader paused (for dramatic effect), and the crowd murmured. After a moment, the Vice President said, “No. Not entirely. But every protest and every lawsuit and every moment of this movement chips away at the barrier that is racism. Which is why my family, my staff, and I support these protests with the entirety of our being. Justice for George Floyd!” 

The crowd of reporters leapt to their feet, shoving more microphones towards Vader as they crowed for a statement. 

“All due respect, sir,” Piett whispered from his place at Vader’s left hand side, “the President is going to murder you.”

“Indeed,” Vader muttered back. 

Luke, who was on the other side of Vader, beamed. “I'd like to see him try.”

And try, President Palpatine most definitely did.

________

“What on _Earth_ were you thinking?” Palpatine seethed to Vader over the phone. Vader’s press conference had ended five minutes prior, and it was safe to say that President Sheev Palpatine had more than a few issues with his speech. “Are you _trying_ to fuel these hooligan’s protests?”

“I was merely dampening the fire,” Vader said diplomatically. In honesty, though, he didn't know why he bothered. Palpatine _knew_ he was lying. “It was simply an attempt to quell the crowds until we can come up with a solution for this.” _Lie. Vader knew exactly what he said at that press conference, and he stood behind every last word._

“You cannot simply address the people without consulting me, my friend,” the President said, barely controlled anger boiling beneath his pleasant tone.

Vader was once again overcome with the overwhelming thankfulness for social distancing; at least he didn't have to see Palpatine’s horrendous face in person. 

“I apologize, sir. It won't happen again.” _Lie._

“Very well,” Palpatine sighed. “But believe me, my friend… these protests will not hold any value for much longer.”

Vader froze as dread filled his heart. “What do you mean?”

Of course, Palpatine chuckled maniacally. “I'll see you on our cabinet zoom call, VP Vader.”

The call disconnected, and Vader was left holding the phone to his ear. 

“Father?” Luke asked. He had obviously taken notice of Vader’s shocked features. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing, young one,” Vader said. “Nothing yet.”

________

Two days later, Vader stiffly pulled himself out of his chair in his office. His bones cracked as he stretched. The man had been awake all night researching the protests and attempting to find a solution for the situation. 

Needless to say, his efforts were fruitless. 

Desperate for coffee, he trudged down the hall to the kitchen. Shockingly, when he entered the kitchen, he was met with the sight of Luke hunched over a newspaper. 

“Luke?” he said softly. “It’s…” he turned to check the clock that rested above the doorway, “8:46. What are you doing up?”

Luke sniffled, and pushed the newspaper towards Vader. “Two people died last night. One of the guys, David McAtee, ran a barbeque on a street corner in Louisville. He used to feed cops for free. I wonder--” he cut himself off with a sob. 

“Luke?” Vader asked hesitantly. 

“I wonder if he ever gave free food to the cop that killed him.”

________

Luke trudged down the stairs, his feet clad in black combat boots. He was wearing a bright orange t-shirt that his father called an eyesore and a pair of khaki pants.

He snatched his car keys out of the small pot he had made in middle school and hurried towards the door. Unfortunately, Vader chose this moment to poke his head out of his office door. 

“Luke? Where are you going?”

Luke froze, slowly turning on his heel to face Vader. “To the store,” he lied. 

“You're a terrible liar,” he said, fully stepping out of his office to glare at the 22 year old. “Where are you going?”

Luke glanced back at the door and sighed. “There's a protest in Lafayette park. I'm meeting Lando, Leia, and Han there.”

“No,” Vader said. “The President is planning something. I won't allow you to endanger yourself.”

“Oh, but I'm supposed to stay here and twiddle my thumbs while my friends are fighting for equality?” he scowled. “Not a chance.”

“I will not permit you to-”

“I'm 22. You don't rule my life, so quit trying to make decisions for me!”

“I am acting for your own good.”

“I know! But I can make my own choices. I’m an adult, I don't need you to do so for me!”

“Young one, I have your best interests at heart!”

“I know that! But I can take care of myself,” Luke faltered, adn deflated. “I know you’re just looking out for me. But I need to do this. I can't stand by any longer!”

Vader stared at him, and once again, Luke was overcome with the feeling that he was thinking about his mother, Padme. 

Apparently, he had her nose. And her willpower. And her heart. 

Now was not the first time that his mother’s traits had come in handy. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “I'll leave as soon as things get violent. If people start acting crazy or burning cars, I'll be back in my room in a second.”

Vader sighed, shaking his head. “You are just as much of a politician as your mother.”

“And you!” Luke reminded him.

“I am not a good politician, young one. I say what I truly think and do what’s best for the people rather than my career.”

“Isn't that what all good politicians do?”

“In an ideal world, it would be.”

“But our world is nothing close to ideal,” Luke said. 

“No, it is most definitely not.”

Father and son stood together and Luke beamed at the man who had raised him. 

“For what it’s worth, I think you're the best politician I've ever met… second to the woman whose uterus I occupied for nine months.” 

Vader chortled, and said, “You have not met enough good politicians.”

“If you say so…” 

Vader groaned, dropping his head into his hands. 

“What is it?” Luke asked, concernedly.

“You're growing up,” Vader said. “And it’s not alright.”

“You're just now realising this?”

“It comes in waves.”

“Does that mean I get to go to the protest?”

“Considering the fact that if I tried to stop you, you would crawl out of your second-story bedroom window… yes.”

Luke laughed. “That’s fair! …And true.”

“Indeed. You will-”

“--send you a text once I get there, yes.”

“And you’ll-”

“Come home the second things get dangerous.”

“Very well. Piett and I will be working late tonight. Do not hesitate to call if you have any concerns.”

“If speed-dial were still a thing, I'd have your number on it.”

“Indeed. Now go, before I change my mind.”

Lue shivered. He didn't think his father knew how ominous he sounded sometimes. 

“Goodbye, Father,” he said as he turned on his heel and walked towards the door. 

“Don't forget your mask! I don't want you to get COVID.”

Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out his mask, waving it in the air for Vader to see. “I've got it,” he called over his shoulder as he walked out the bright red door of their townhouse. 

He shut the door behind him and hurried to his orange-striped jeep, shooting Leia a quick text to let her know that he was on his way.

As he drove the ten minutes to Lafayette park, he thought about what his father had said concerning the President and his plans. Luke shivered, hoping that nothing would go wrong at the protest. So far, many of the protests had gotten… slightly crazy. American citizens had a right to protesting and assembly, but there was nothing to excuse the vandalism, looting, arson and violence that occasionally occurred during protests. Though, much of that was linked to white supremacists and criminals trying to incite violence.

That's not to say that there weren't any peaceful protests, though. In Niagara Falls, New York, a protest had turned into a dance party that had everyone enjoying themselves, protesters and law enforcement alike. In big cities, though, it was a touch harder to keep people safe. 

Nonetheless, Luke parked his car a block away from the park and slipped his mask onto his face. He hopped out of the driver's seat and walked towards the crowd of people at Lafayette park. 

Luke whipped out his phone and called Leia. it rang for a few minutes before the call patched through. “Hey, Luke,” she said. “Where are you?”

“That's what I was about to ask you!” Luke said. “I just got here, and I'm near the southern part of the park.”

“We’re right in the thick of things.”

“Ooh, fun. Is Lando here yet?”

“Yeah, we’re all here. Oh, I think I see you.”

“LUKE!” a voice hollered across the chanting of the protesters. 

He turned to his left to see Lando waving him over to everyone else. Luke beamed at them and weaved through the crowd to meet them.

“Hey, guys!” he said. “How are you? I haven't seen you since college went online.”

“We’re good, kid,” Han said. “Leia and I have been living it up in our one bedroom apartme--”

“It's a miracle we haven't killed each other yet,” Leia deadpanned, startling a laugh out of Luke. 

“Is that any different from normal?” Lando asked. 

Suddenly, a commotion started up further in the crowd. “Are things getting bad already?” Luke asked. “I just got here.”

“Oh, that’s just Yoda,” Leia shrugged. 

“Some old guy keeps playing a banjo. We’ve all been singing along,” Han replied.

“Of course,” Luke said, thoroughly stumped. “Well…that’s great I guess!”

Sure enough, the crowd started to sing, the song overwhelming the chants. 

Lando, Luke, Leia, and Han laughed, joining in. They sang along for what felt like minutes, but really two hours had passed. Suddenly, Luke’s phone started blowing up. 

Luke frowned, and pulled it out of his pocket. He had thirteen missed texts from his father, and seven missed calls from Piett. 

“Hey, put that thing down,” Han laughed. 

“Yeah,” Leia said. “We’re peacefully protesting here!”

Luke chuckled and tucked his phone back into his pocket, texts unread. “I'm sure he’ll survive for five minutes if I don't talk to him.”

“Of course,” Lando said. “I certainly do.”

Leia slapped him on the shoulder. “You hush!”

Her reprimand was cut off by shouts and screams of praise. When the group looked forward, they could see the Park Police kneeling in front of the crowd.

Luke smiled. “No way!” he exclaimed. Police officers were known to kneel to show their support of the protests, and to say that they’re standing with the ‘hooligans’ president Palpatine so despised.

“Wait…” Leia said. “What are they doing?”

“They're…” Lando’s triumphant tone shifted to fearful. “..They're putting on gas masks.” 

It was as if the entire crowd came across that realization at once. Abrupt screams of terror and fear from the other side of the crowd. There was a sharp booming sound, and then they began to cough and tear up as gas flooded the air. 

“I… think… you should’ve… listened… to your… dad,” Han wheezed, his arm covering his face.

“What the hell is this?” Leia exclaimed through her mask. “We’re peacefully protesting. It’s not like we’re rioting or anything! Why the hell would the cops lob a can of tear gas at us?”

“I don't know,” Lando said, “but we should follow everyone else's lead and get the hell out of here.”

Luke shook his head, tears flooding his eyes. “Don't you see? That's just what they want us to do! They’re trying to flush us out.”

“Well we can't just give in,” Leia coughed.

“Uh… guys?” Lando said, tapping Luke on the arm.

“We don't have any choice, Leia,” Han says. 

“Guys!” 

“It's not like tear gas can… kill us,” Leia shoots back. “Are you really just going to leave?”

“GUYS!”

“Well, can you bear to stay in these bullshit conditions for much longer?”

“Guys, I don't think we have a choice,” Luke said, finally catching on to what Lando was saying. “Look!”

The Park Police were wading into the retreating crowd, firing rubber bullets into the already chaotic fray. 

“Oh, you have got to be _fucking_ kidding me,” Leia scoffed. 

“Do you have no fear, woman?” Lando exclaimed as he rushed away from the police. “Run!”

“No,” Leia replied. “No police officer will push ME out of-”

“Leia, get down!” Luke yelled, tackling his friend to the ground. “Ow,” he mumbled, holding his side tightly. 

“Shit,” Han said as the cops began to single them out. “Luke, lets go!”

“It hurts,” he groaned.

Lando finally turned back to them, and ran over to Luke. He scooped the young man into his arms and carried him away from the police officers. 

“My car…” Luke mumbled. “Paid for it… myself. Can't… lose it…” 

“I've done research on this,” Leia panted as they ran. “Rubber bullets can cause massive internal bleeding, and in 3% of cases, death. Not to mention the massive amounts of permanent spinal injuries, paralyzations--”

“So what you’re saying is,” Lando gasped for breath, “we need to get him to a hospital.”

Finally, the group reached Han’s old, beaten down blue van, lovingly named the Millenium Falcon. “Aren't hospitals closed?” Han asked.

“No,” Leia scoffed. “Why would hospitals be closed?”

“Because of COVID,” Lando said. “They're not closed, but it's exceedingly risky to go to one.”

He loaded Luke into the back of the van. Luke frowned at them. “Guys, its fine,” he told them. “I just… need… an ice pack.”

“You’re not fine, Luke,” Leia said. “You need to be checked out. ASAP”

“My phone….. Text… my father.”

“We will, Luke,” Han said as he strapped himself into the driver's seat. Leia slid into the passenger's seat, looking worriedly at Luke. 

“I hate to say it,” Leia said, “but the nearest hospital is that way, and this bucket of bolts is never going to get us past that blockade.” She motioned to the group of cop cars lining the street. 

“Well then, princess,” Han snapped. “I guess we’ll take a detour.”

With that, he fired up the engine… which immediately sputtered and died. 

“Oh come on!” he groaned.

“Aww, were you trying to have a hero moment?” Leia laughed.

Han glared at her, and pressed the ignition again. “Dammit,” he mumbled, smacking the dashboard. Thankfully, the engine sputtered on spontaneously.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” he mumbled as he maneuvered the van through the streets. “Welcome to Frontier Air; I'm your hostess Han, this plane is the one and only Millennium Falcon, and we’re about to take a WILD ride!”

__Ten__Minutes__Prior__

Vader sighed, slumping into his seat. “I just don't understand it,” he complained. 

“Nor do I, sir,” Piett said awkwardly from his perch on the other side of Vader’s desk. 

“I'm only looking out for his best interests.”

“Of course.”

“He does know that, right?”

“I'm sure that Luke knows how much you care about him.”

“Then why does he insist on gallivanting around Lafayette park and protesting? I support it, of course, but he could be hurt! He could be killed!”

“As far as I've heard, sir, the protests have been mostly peaceful thus far,” Piett said. 

“I'm well aware of that,” Vader growled, resulting in a flinch from Piett. “But it is clear that these protests are dangerous affairs.”

“If I may, sir?”

“Spit it out, Piett.”

“Your son is standing up for what he believes in. He's proving that just because he’s the Vice President's son, that doesn't mean that he can't attend protests and make his views be heard. I think it's an admirable course of action.”

Vader stared at him. “It is… I just wish it weren't so dangerous.”

“Luke is nothing if not resourceful,” Piett smiled wistfully. “You've raised him well; if things do take a dangerous turn, he’ll keep himself safe.”

“Not if it means keeping his friends safer.”

“True. But his friends look our for him just as much as he does for them. They will help him in every way they can.”

“He did always have good judgement when it came to people.”

“Again; you’ve raised him well.”

“Not well enough,” Vader sighed. “I would have done better if I had her with me, too.”

Piett winced. Things always got awkward for him. Always. No matter what, they ALWAYS got awkward. 

“I think Padme would approve of every choice you made regarding his upbringing,” he said. 

Vader raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, not EVERYTHING, but she always believed in you, did she not?”

“That she did,” Vader sighed. 

Their short conversation was cut off by a ringing telephone. Vader groaned, rubbing his temples. “I can already FEEL the headache,” he said. 

Piett inwardly laughed, and answered the phone. “Vice President Vader’s office, this is Firmus Piett speaking. How may I help you?”

Piett frowned. “What do you mean?”

After a second, he dropped the phone and glanced up at Vader urgently. “Tear gas,” he said disbelievingly. “Palpatine is going to use tear gas and rubber bullets on the protestors in Lafayette park.”

Vader froze. His heart stopped beating. Luke was in Lafayette park. “What?” he gasped. 

Piett tore out his phone and tapped Luke’s contact name, pressing the call button and waiting impatiently for him to answer. Unsurprisingly, the call didn't go through. 

“Dammit,” Piett yanked the phone away from his ear. “No answer.”

Vader was on his phone in minutes. “Keep calling him!” he barked sharply as he quickly texted the boy. 

Piett called again, but sure enough, he reached Luke’s answering machine. ‘ _Hello, you’ve reached the voicemail of Luke Skywalker! If it’s Leia, please don't complain about Han, you’ve already filled my voicemail twice. Han, the same goes for you. Lando, I'm sorry, but I don't know where your shoes are. Father, whatever it is you’re worrying about, calm down, I'm fine! Piett, tell Father to calm down. If its someone else, I'm sorry you had to sit through that. Leave it at the beep!_ ’

Piett called Luke five more times, but each effort was fruitless. Vader slammed his phone down onto the table. 

“Dammit, Luke!” he shouted. He scooped his jacket off the chair and marched out the door. “Hurry, Piett. This is my son’s safety at stake.”

________

When the college crew arrived at the hospital, it was safe to say that things were urgent. 

Lando had googled ‘injuries via rubber bullets’ and was subsequently freaking out. Leia was trying to calm him down, and the Falcon had nearly broken down three times  
on the way to the hospital, so Han was more than a touch frustrated. 

When they finally arrived at the hospital, the doctors took Luke upstairs for a CT scan (whatever th), and they ushered Lando, Leia, and Han out of the ER. 

“We don't want a flood of people in the hospital,” they explained. “You can wait outside!”

There were about ten groups of people outside the hospital, waiting. Lando, Leia, and Han recognized many of them from the protest. They struck up a conversation from six feet away, and got to know their fellow dissidents. In one group was an African American girl named Ahsoka. She had blue highlights in her braided hair which perfectly accented her shining opal eyes. She was waiting for a man named Rex, who was an army veteran. The sounds of the tear gas bombs had driven him into a bad PTSD-induced panic attack. The poor guy had gotten so worked up he’d sprained his ankle while running from the police officers. 

Needless to say, no one was happy with the government. 

“You know what I heard?” a boy named Ezra said. “Apparently, they flushed us out so the ‘President’ could take a selfie in front of a church.”

“It was a _picture_ Ezra,” scoffed Sabine. “Not a selfie.”

“Is it just me, or is that somehow worse?” the heavily accented voice of Ventress asked. “The president of the United States of America tear-gases and shoots his citizens for a quick photo op.”

“Tell me about it,” Lando said. “The funny thing is, he says he's on our side.”

The groups laughed, shaking their heads. “As if,” Ahsoka laughed. “He's way too much of an asshole to even think about siding with us.”

“I wish there weren't sides in the first place,” Leia sighed. “I wish it was just common knowledge; everyone’s equal.”

“Ah, in an ideal world, it would be,” Ventress sighed. “You are lucky. You have not faced much of what we have.”

“True,” Han sighed. “We’re the epitome of white privilege.”

Lando laughed. “Says the street rat.”

Han stuck out his tongue, and a doctor walked out the hospital door. “Luke Skywalker?” she called. Han, Lando, and Leia quickly bid their farewells to the others, and hurried into the hospital. 

“Is the kid alright?” Han asked. 

“Luke is bleeding internally,” she said gently, glancing between the trio. “Are any of you his immediate family?”

“No,” Leia said. “Why?”

“Well, we called his father. We were sure he would be arriving--”

The door of the hospital slammed open and Vader barged into the room, Piett hot on his heels. “Where is my son?!” 

“--soon. You must be--”

“--his father, yes, now where is he?”

The doctor swallowed nervously. “Ah, he’s in room 2187, sir, but--”

Vader rushed past her, hurrying down the hall. He followed the signs and led himself to Luke’s room. 

“Ah, sir,” Piett said as he hurried to keep up with the taller man, “the Secret Service--”

“--is not important right now, Piett.”

“But, sir--”

Vader burst into Luke’s room, slamming the door behind him. Luke was lying on a bed, studying the wall. When his father arrived, the corners of his lips turned down. “Did you know?” he asked. “That they were going to do that?” 

“No,” Vader said, appalled at the thought of it. “I would never knowingly send you into danger, or condone that against anyone.”

“But that’s what happened. Leia and Han could have been hurt! Lando could've been hurt! How can you possibly work with Palpatine when he does things like this?!”

“I do not plan on working for him much longer.”

Luke froze. “What?” All his life, Vader had been Palpatine’s loyal servant. What on earth had changed?

“You could have died, young one,” he said. 

“He still might,” said the doctor, who had finally caught up to Vader. She and Piett stepped into Luke’s room, Piett awkwardly lingering by the door. 

“ _What_?”

“Luke is severely concussed,” the doctor said calmly. “He hit his head when he fell, and is bleeding internally.”

“Oh,” Luke said simply. “So that’s why Father Looks like a blob.”

If Piett wasn't so concerned, he would have groaned. 

“Yes,” the doctor said. “That is why your father looks like a blob. Now, the concussion needs to be left alone, but the internal bleeding may need surgery.”

“Surgery?” Luke exclaimed. “This is _so_ not how I imagined my day going.”

“I can relate to that,” Piett mumbled. “More than you know.”

“The surgery is simple; our CT showed us that your bleeding is mainly around your liver. We can go in and repair the source of the bleeding easily.”

“Wait,” Lue muttered, “how much will this cost?”

“Do _not_ go through your foolish ‘I must pay for everything I ever do’ act now, young one. You could have DIED.”

“I'll be fine,” Luke mumbled. 

Vader stared at his son’s form on the bed. “What are the risks of the surgery?”

“There aren't many,” the doctor said. The doctor then burst into a long, fast-paced spiel that sounded an awful lot like those medical commercials that tried to hide the fact that THIS MEDICINE COULD KILL YOU. 

Nevertheless, when Vader looked down at his son, he was hit with the overwhelming worry that he could lose him. 

“Do the surgery.”

________

The surgery was supposed to take three hours.

In reality, it took six. 

Vader, Han, Lando, Piett, and Leia paced outside, waiting impatiently for Luke to be back. Finally, when the doctors came out of the hospital… Vader took one look at their faces and knew that something went wrong. 

“Sir,” the doctor said, her voice sorrowful. “There was a complication in the surgery.”

_No._

“Your son’s internal bleeding was too severe.”

_Nonono._

“I'm sorry…”

_Don't say it._

“... but we couldn't save him.”

“NO!” Vader screamed. “You’re lying. You have to… NO!”

________

“This just in,” news reporter Mon Mothma said as the camera’s zoomed in on her face. “Vice President Darth Vader will be attending his first press conference since the death of his son, Luke Skywalker, due to President Palpatine’s wrongful attack on a group of peaceful protestors in Lafayette park. This is a video of his speech, which will, certainly, shock the world!”

The video cut to Darth Vader standing behind a podium. His once lively greying blonde hair had lost it’s life. There were bags under his eyes, and a terrible look on his face. At his left side stood his assistant, Firmus Piett, who looked more stressed and tired than ever. The man, who was normally clad in olive green clothing, was wearing only black. There was an overpowering air of grief surrounding the video clip, making it even more somber. 

“On Monday night, at 4:30, my son Luke attended a peaceful protest in Lafayette park,” he said, choking back a sob. “Beforehand, he was singing. Dancing. Laughing. And then the police fired rubber bullets and tear gas into the non-violent crowd.”

He let that sink in for a moment. His assistant turned away from the crowd, bringing a hand to his eyes to rub away tears. 

“Luke was brought to the hospital with what we thought was a concussion,” Vader said calmly, making eye contact with each and every reporter. “He had a surgery done to resolve internal bleeding that occured as a result of being shot by rubber bullets which President Palpatine ordered his troops to use.”

“The surgery nearly went off without a hitch, but as the surgeons were sewing my child's stomach back together, his brain… stopped sending signals to the rest of his body. He died there, on that table. Brain dead. Do you want to know the first question the doctors asked me?”

The reporters looked at one another, whispering among themselves. 

“‘Your son is an organ donor,’ they said to me. They wanted to know if I needed a moment with my son’s body before they could take his heart out.”

A reporter gasped, and Vader scoffed. “The thing is,” he said, “Luke was doing something admirable. He was standing up for human rights. The rights everyone deserves, but not everyone is given. And he was doing it peacefully. Kindly. So what I ask… is why our ‘President’ believed it was wise to shoot tear gas and rubber bullets into a crowd of peaceful people! And the only answer I've been able to receive… is that Palpatine wanted an Instagram pic,” he spat out the words with disgust.

“No sane, good _person_ who is loyal to his people would EVER do such a thing. This is why… I recommend that we revisit the campaign to impeach President Palpatine.”

In another time, Vader would have relished in the crowds gasps. But that was not this time. Not without Luke by his side. 

“And that is also why,” he finished, “I'm stepping down from my position as Vice President.”

The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... am so sorry. If it makes you feel better, I didn't plan on that happening. Again... so sorry. Becca told me not to, but I didn't listen, and... well. TO ALL OF YOU FOLKS OUT THERE WHO ENJOY SCREAMING IN PAIN EVERY TIME YOU READ FANFIC, THIS ONE'S FOR YOU
> 
> The subject I wrote this about is terribly unjust, and downright depressing, so I figured that this would be a fitting ending. When the lives of innocent people are squandered, the world is an unjust place. I'm sorry if that was emo. There are veins popping out of my hands because I've been writing for hours and I'm getting angry. 
> 
> I promise the next chapter won't be as sad.


	8. Good Soldiers Follow Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Darth Vader's son, Luke Skywalker, decides to run for King of Naboo, a Sith Lord worries, another schemes, Piett is silently suffering in the corner, and Veers is laughing at his friend's ever-suffering eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii! This chapter goes to @ElitaPond . She's an angel, and I'm very sorry to get this out so late! I was distracted, but my beta (aka @ChaoticNeutral18) got me back on track. 
> 
> So, this is another King Luke au, but its a bit different; Vader raised Luke, so when he decides to run for office, stuff happens. I would elaborate, but ao3 made me write this twice already and its midnight, so lets do this! 
> 
> Love you all! Happy reading!!

“I will not allow you to throw your childhood away!” Vader’s baritone voice boomed, filling the air with sound. 

Luke winced. “It’s my choice; _not_ yours. And I'm not throwing away my childhood. I'm making a difference!”

“You are but a boy; that difference is not yours to make!”

“Someone has to! The only other candidates are either radical Imperials who will sign Naboo’s freedom away or rebel sympathizers who will mold our planet, our home into a war zone!”

Vader scoffed and turned away from Luke, staring out the window of the manor at Varykino. His son had just informed him of his decision to run for King of Naboo; needless to say, Vader had many complaints to voice. 

“The position of ruler is endlessly dangerous,” he persisted, even though Vader could practically _feel_ Luke rolling his eyes behind him. “With the current state of the political environment, it would be exceedingly unwise to shove yourself into the limelight.”

“The state of the political climate is the entire reason I'm running!” Luke exclaimed, exasperated. “Your master is trying to overrun Naboo, forever changing it. If you won't stop him, I will!”

“That is not your responsibility!” he snapped back.

“It shouldn't have to be anybody's responsibility. If it wasn't for Palpatine--”

“Young one, you mustn’t say such things. If one of the Emperor’s spies hears you-”

“Father, you know I don't support the Empir--err, Emperor. I won't lie.”

“No,” Vader agreed, “you will, however, withhold the truth.”

“Because _that’s_ so much better,” Luke said sarcastically. 

“Do not get sassy with me, young one,” he whirled around and wagged a finger in Luke’s face. 

His son frowned for a second, then smiled brightly and grabbed Vader’s finger. “Do you trust me?”

“Luke-”

“Do you?”

“More than most, little one.”

“Good!” Luke beamed. “Then trust me when I say that I'll be careful. I won't let the Emperor catch on to our plan, and I won't get hurt. I can take care of myself.”

“You cannot,” he said as he sent a sigh through their mental link. “Just yesterday you tripped over a rock on the sidewalk and landed face down on the pavement. For someone who has lived in Varykino for all of their life, you are incredibly unaware of your surroundings.”

Luke glared at him as balefully as he could manage. “You berk,” he laughed, bumping Vader on the shoulder with his fist.

“I suppose your cousins are the source of this juvenile language?”

He laughed, and shrugged. “Someone had to. Imagine if I talked as formally as you all the time!”

“If you truly intend to run for King, you should learn to speak as ‘formally’ as I do.”

Luke’s back stiffened and he pushed his shoulders back, adopting a blasé expression. “Indeed, Lord Vader,” he said properly. “Shall we contemplate the matter over tea and biscuits? Or perhaps a piping cup of expensive caf to stimulate the flow of conversation?”

“I understand, young one. You can stop now.”

“The Empire is a grand, fine establishment--” 

“ _Alright_ , little one, hush now.”

“--with only the interests of the people at heart! Why, if our lord and savior Emperor Palpatine ever left us, I don't know what we’d do! The universe simply revolves around His Highness, and I can only hope to measure up to his greatness! Surely, our galaxy will grow and flourish under his awe-inspiring influence!”

Vader raised a brow behind his mask. “Are you quite finished?”

“Yep!” Luke smiled, his posture relaxing once again. “Did you enjoy my performance?”

“It was certainly entertaining. I was under the impression you were imitating me; though I was lost when you began your approbation of the Emperor. Do you truly believe I could be so…”

“Uppity? No, not really, but I knew it would annoy you. Besides, I was going for more of an… Imperial Core Elite vibe.”

“Well, you most definitely accomplished that.”

“Wonderful! So, speaking of Palpatine… I don't think me running for King will be an issue in his eyes. He’ll probably think that it’s… an opportunity to get closer to me and to turn me against you, which won't happen.”

“You do not know my master,” Vader replied menacingly. 

Luke swallowed nervously. “Right. Well… I'm doing this. It’s what… it’s what _she_ would want.”

“Do not mention your mother to me,” the Sith growled. 

“I know you don't like talking about her, but-”

“There will be no buts! You will drop this frivolous desire of yours this instant. There will be no running for King, there will be no politics.”

“I have to make a difference somehow! I know you want the both of us to kill Palpatine together, but I'm done waiting for me to be strong enough, and I'm done waiting for you to step up and kill the guy! I have to do something to stop him from overrunning my planet with stormtroopers and poorly-concealed militarism.”

“You mustn’t-”

“You can't stop me, Father!” Luke yelled, finally losing his temper. Vader gaped at him behind the mask. Luke winced apologetically. “Sorry, but it's true. I'm sixteen years old, I'm not a baby anymore. I can make my own decisions. And I'm running for King. Will you… will you support me?”

Vader stared at his son for a moment, taking in his features. The stubborn set of his jaw, the way his nose wrinkled slightly as he argued… those were _her_ features. Her stubborn jaw, her twitching nose… it was all her. All Padme. 

It was a face he could never say no to. 

________

The next day, Luke smiled brightly into a crowd of Nabooians. “Hello!” he said with a small wave. “My name is Luke Skywalker, and I'm here to announce that this year, I'm running for King.”

________

“Alright, guys, time to focus,” Luke beamed at the group of people around him. “The campaigning period is only three months--don't give me that look, Piett, I know three months is a while for you to be away from the Executor, but you’re here because you need a vacation to relax--so we need to get working!”

“If I may,” General Veers sighed, raising his hand. “You already have this election in the bag. So far, the preemptive polls taken show that you will be winning in a landslide. Why must you waste time campaigning?”

“So he doesn't lose the lead he has,” Vader explained as he ignored his aching heart. Padme had told him that once; they had been discussing the election process which, eventually, resulted in her gaining a seat in the Senate. _The Senate you and your so-called Master destroyed,_ a traitorous little voice whispered in the back of his mind. Needless to say, Vader banished those thoughts the second they arose. 

Veers raised a questioning eyebrow, but wisely refused to ask the Sith how he knew this. 

“He's right,” Sola Naberrie nodded, sneering at Vader. “ _Padme_ used to talk about it all the time.”

Veers’ other eyebrow disappeared into his hairline. In the resulting silence, Piett suppressed the urge to bang his head on the table, instead pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. 

It was no secret that Sola Naberrie was resentful of Lord Vader; he had taken her nephew away from her when he was just five. Not to mention all he had done to his sister. The duo shared a mutual dislike, which did Luke no favors. 

“Alrighty,” Luke said awkwardly. “Uh, let's change the subject.”

He was met with silence. 

“Father?” he mumbled, prodding the behemoth man on the shoulder. “Auntie Sola?”

When there was no answer, Luke sighed resignedly, and told them. “I'm running away.” No reaction. “I'm joining the circus.” Still, nothing from the group. “I'm going back to Tatooine to sell myself into slavery.” Again, nothing. “I'm going to go to my room, eat my weight in ice cream, and then collapse on the couch with my shoes on.”

“No shoes on the couch,” Sola said sharply. 

“No ice cream before dinner,” Vader replied at the same time. 

“Great, so we all agree!” Luke cheered. “Now, as I was saying--”

“I'd _hardly_ say we agree,” Sola scoffed. 

“Perhaps if your aunt was not so foolish, we could, young one.”

“ _Foolish?!_ ”

Luke groaned and dropped his head into his hands as the argument filled the air around him. This would take a while.

________

“Everyone needs to calm down,” Luke said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Calm down?!” Sola shrieked. 

“Luke,” Pooja drawled, “you were like… THIS close to being murdered. I think a little stress is warranted.”

The Naberrie family was gathered around a table in their apartment on Theed, with Vader lurking behind Luke’s seat. There had just been an assassination attempt that nearly resulted in Luke dead and Vader fuming. A group of pirates had been… thoroughly perturbed by Luke’s determination to clean up the streets of Naboo. The organization decided to place a bounty on Luke’s head; Vader, of course, took grave insult to this. 

“Indeed,” Vader spoke curtly. “You must pull yourself out of the race at once, young one.”

“What?! No! Mom wouldn't back down, and neither will I.”

“You are _not_ your mother.”

Luke flinched, but tried to focus on his father’s meaning; Luke will not share his mother’s fate. 

Regardless, he wasn't pulling out of the race. “Not a chance,” he shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “If I back down, the pirates will have gotten what they wanted.”

“Would that be so bad?” Ruwee asked. “I know you want this, Luke, but is your life a worthy price to pay?”

“Yes,” Luke snapped. “Naboo has been overrun with pirates in the most recent years since the fall of the Republic.” He glanced pointedly at Vader, who crossed his arms over his chest. “ **Someone** has to step up and fix it!”

“You are already running on a dangerous mantle,” Vader shook his head. “You've promised to keep Naboo out of Imperial control; it's a near miracle that the Emperor has not yet seen fit to convict you of treason and order your execution.”

“I know,” Luke rolled his eyes. “We’ve been over this. But I'm not dropping out of the election. Besides, what will the Emperor possibly be able to do while I'm the literal King? He won't be able to order my execution without the planet going into an uproar.”

“He has a point,” Ryoo shrugged. 

“ _Thank you!_ ”

“Shockingly, I agree with your father,” Sola sighed with a shake of her head. “We can't risk anything happening to you, Luke. This family cannot suffer another heartbreak.” She glared at Vader. Jobal and Ruwee looked down at the table sadly while Ryoo and Pooja winced.

Vader growled at her, and Luke scoffed. “I'm not backing out. C’mon, can't we at least find a compromise?”

“Like what?” Jobal said, wringing her hands nervously. She could lose Luke; he’s the last she has of her daughter. 

“Like… give me a bodyguard?” 

“Isn't that Dad Vader’s job?” Pooja snorted, leaning back and propping her heels up on the table. 

“No feet on the table,” Sola admonished sharply. Pooja twisted and dropped her feet into Luke’s lap.

“Hey!” he protested lightly. 

She just laughed. “Get used to it, King Cuz.”

“I haven't won yet.”

“Emphasis on _yet_.”

Luke sighed, and reste a hand on her shoes. “Whatever you say, Poo.”

“I told you not to call me that!”

“Children, please,” Jobal smiled. When Luke looked past her grin, he could see the crease in her brow, the worry in her eyes. He hated that he was concerning her so much, but he had to do this. 

It's what his mother would want. 

“Naboo will _not_ be taken over by the Empire,” he said. “It won't be tarnished by pirates and slavers; my mother would never stand for it.” _Nor would she stand for the Empire,_ he thought to himself, carefully guarding that thought from his father. 

“Let someone else protect Naboo,” Ryoo said softly. She looked up at Luke, vulnerability in her eyes. “It doesn't have to be YOUR responsibility.”

“I think we both know that’s not true.”

The room was silent except for the familiar rasp of Vader’s respirator. Clearly they were at an impasse. 

“I'm going to keep campaigning,” Luke said. “Do whatever you will to protect me, but I will not and cannot stand down.”

Vader’s respirator let out a crackling sound that he knew to be a sigh. “Very well. Though I do not approve of your foolish ways of putting yourself at risk, I see that your determination will not be pushed away. I will arrange for a bodyguard to keep track of you at all times.

Luke exhaled relievedly, slumping into his seat. “Thank you, Father.”

Vader just nodded, tapping a few buttons on his wrist comm. Luke’s bodyguards, whoever they may be, had better not fail him. 

________

They failed him. 

Vader had personally selected two upstanding members of the 501st legion to babysit--err, protect Luke while the Sith was called off planet. Sidious, the nerfherder, had abruptly decided that Vader and the crew of the _Executor_ were to be shipped away to some backwater planet to chase a so-called Jedi Padawan named Ezra Something. Vader thought it was pointless; sure enough, the tip led Vader on a wild porg chase. 

Vader thought he was going to catch the worthless Jedi, but just as he caught onto his trail, he felt Luke’s distress ripple across their bond. 

‘ _Luke?’_ he asked cautiously. Luke had been yearning for independence and privacy as of late; Vader didn't want to overstep the delicate boundaries the boy had created. 

Of course, all worries of boundaries were sent out the airlock when Luke sent a screeching, ‘ _Father, help!_ ’ across the bond before going silent. 

Fear and panic seized Vader’s heart. ‘ _Luke? Luke!_ LUKE!’

His son was silent. 

Vader reached out in the force, and sure enough, the boy’s Force presence was muted, as if someone was muffling the bright light with a blanket. 

But he was alive. That was all Vader needed. 

“Ozzel,” he barked. “Set course for Naboo.”

“But my lord,” the imbecilic Admiral frowned, “the Emperor himself ordered us to keep away from Naboo.”

“He did _what_.”

“While you were wandering after that Jedi boy, the Emperor called and told us to stay away from Naboo, on his orders.”

Vader growled. “That. Is _exactly_. Why we’re going.”

“But surely--”

“Do you enjoy your post, _Admiral_?”

“Ah… yes, my lord.”

“Well, if you want to keep it, do as I say!”

Ozzel nodded and ordered the techies to change course for naboo. He did follow Vader’s orders, though his face looked as if he had just eaten a sour lemon. It was because of this that Vader couldn't just kill the man, no matter how much he sorely wanted to.

He was waiting for ANY infraction. Anything that would give him an excuse to throttle Ozzel where he stood. Surely the current Captain, Firmus Piett, would be a far better Amiral than his predecessor. 

But Vader had more important things on his mind at the moment. 

‘ _Luke_ ,’ he called. ‘ _What happened, young one? Where are you?_ ’

Through the bond, Vader heard a quiet groan. ‘ _Brain hurty._ ’

Vader nearly collapsed in relief at the sound of his son’s voice, but the words worried him. 

‘ _Where are you? What happened?_ ’

‘ _Head hurty. Frowny face._ ’

‘ _You must be concussed._ ’ Worry shrouded any amusement Vader would be feeling at his son’s phrasing.

He heard a small laugh from the bond. ‘ _Con-cussed. Hehe_.’

‘ _I am not amused,_ ’ he sent him sharply. ‘ _Where are your bodyguards? What’s happened?’_

_‘Ah… pirates. Palpy? Pirates or Palpy?’_

_‘Palpatine?’_

_‘Or pirates. Pilates?’_

_‘No, young one, not pilates.’_

_‘Oh…’_

_‘Where are you?’_

_‘Speeder. Going… going west.’_

Vader reached out in the Force, searching again for his son’s Force signature. As he was doing so, the _Executor_ jumped into lightspeed. 

“My lord,” Piett’s heels clicked sharply on the bridge as he walked towards Vader, snapping into parade rest. “We’re headed for Naboo now. Is there anything else that you require of us?”

Vader nodded sharply. “Contact TI-2006 and FG-5061 immediately. They have lost something very important to me.”

If the Captain was unsettled by the ominous statement, he refused to show it. “Right away, my lord.”

He turned on his heel and marched down to the communications center, not caring for any extra formalities customary for the Imperial Navy. 

Vader knew the job would get done. The Captain was nothing if not efficient. Again, though, he was focused on his son. 

‘ _You need to tell me what happened,’_ he demanded across the bond.

In return, he was granted with the impression of a wince. ‘ _Too loud. Head hurty._ ’

Vader nearly smacked his forehead at his own incompetence. ‘ _My apologies, young one_ ,’ he apologized quietly. ‘ _But you still must explain what occurred.’_

_‘Conference with… managers. Wanted to show that I was still running, the assani--assassi--err, assholenation--”_

_‘Assassination.’_

_‘--didn't pull me out of the race. There was a bang. My ears are… ringing a lot. Bells. Bells are playing.’_

_‘There may have been an explosion,’_ Vader reasoned. ‘ _That could be the cause for your concussion, and your ears’ current state.’_

_‘Sssssuuuree,’_ Luke slurred. ‘ _Also, I'm_ definitely _drugged.’_

_‘What?!’_

_‘It kinda feels like that time I tried spice, but like… WAY crazier.’_

_“You tried spice, young one?! What on earth were you thinking?!’_

_‘That it would be fun! It wasn't, really. Kinda… gross.’_

_‘I'd certainly hope you feel that way about drugs,’_ Vader scolded. ‘ _When I get you back, young one, we will be having a conversation about this. YOu cannot recklessly endanger your life with such drugs, especially when you are soon to be a role model for the people of Naboo! A king cannot take spice.’_

_‘Didn't like it…’_ Luke said drowsily. ‘ _Kinda… tired.’_

_‘Luke? Luke, do_ not _go to sleep,_ ” Vader demanded. ‘ _You cannot--’_

_‘Head… hurty…’_

With that, Luke’s presence relaxed as he dropped into a calm slumber. Vader growled, sending the officers around him scurrying to get away. One officer, though, stepped up to Vader regardless. It was the Captain, Vader dimly realized through his anger. 

“My lord,” the man said calmly, if not nervously, “TI-2006 and FG-5061 have been compromised; they are not answering their comms, and their trackers have been crushed.”

Vader glared at Piett and spun to walk out of the bridge, his cape snapping behind him. “FInd them!” 

________

Luke felt like he was floating. 

His mind was a muddled mess. A part of his consciousness was begging him to get up, to run, to get away from his captors, to do ANYTHING, but he couldn't bear to pull himself to his feet. 

He dipped in and out of sleep, his eyelids heavy and unwilling to stay open for long periods of time. 

Yeah, he was _definitely_ drugged. 

For the last time, Luke’s eyelids dropped and his head fell to his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he was this tired. Mabe just another five minutes, he told the voice in his head. Just five minutes, then he’d try to escape.

Five hours (yeah, you read that right) later, Luke woke up to a small, dark room. He was tied to a chair, and his captors were sitting just across from him. He blinked at them drowsily, and let a worried smile cut across his nervous face. 

“Hey, guys,” he croaked. “What’s up?”

“Quiet,” one of the troopers demanded, clenching his fists anxiously. Luke noticed the man’s tense posture, taking a mental note of his body language. 

“You alright?” he asked. “I mean, I'm kind of mad that you kidnapped me, but it shouldn’t be too hard to get out.”

“Shut up,” admonished the other trooper. “We don't have time for this.”

‘Ah. Well, what, exactly, do you have time for?”

“Time to interrogate you,” said the first trooper. He didn't sound too happy about it. 

“Right,” Luke nodded cautiously. “Well. What are your names first? I can't exactly call you trooper 1 and 2 in my mind.”

“We don't have names,” said the second trooper. 

Luke winced. Right. He was familiar with the customs of the Imperial Forces; troopers are just soldiers, cannon fodder. They don't get names. 

“Well, what are your serial numbers?”

The duo hesitated, but eventually the first trooper said, “Uh, why should we tell you that?”

“Cause,” Luke tried to shrug, but the bindings cut off his ability, “my father already knows who you are; he assigned you to me himself. So what's the point in hiding it if he already knows?”

They glanced at each other, and Number 2 rubbed the back of his neck. “It's not like he'll have a chance to tell anyone, right?”

Luke winced. He knew what that meant; if this goes according to the troopers’ plans, he wasn't getting out of here alive. 

“My father already knows who you are,” he said, distracting himself from the truth.

The troopers were silent, until Number one eventually said, “I'm TI-2006 and he’s FG-5061.”

“Alright,” Luke said slowly. “TI, you can be Tim. FG, you can be… Foggy!”

“... Foggy?”

“It's a reference to another universe.”

“What?”

“What? Anyways… you get names, so do I get to know why you’re doing this?”

“That's not how an interrogation works,” Foggy shook his head. 

“Sorry, i'm not very experienced with torture. That might be because my father’s an overbearing extra Sith lord. Maybe you’ve heard of him; Darth Vader, Second in command of the Empire? Does that ring a bell?”

The troopers were silent, and Tim turned on his heel to fiddle with a small interrogation droid. The droid had a small injection tube by its side, which was, of course, pointed towards Luke. 

The boy began to sweat. He did _not_ like needles. 

“That’s not fair,” he protested. “I at least have a right to know what I'm being interrogated about!”

“Well,” Foggy muttered to himself, “he was definitely tellin’ the truth about being unfamiliar with… interrogations.”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded, desperate to connect with his captors. If he could convince them that he didn't do whatever they thought he did, then he might have a fighting chance of escape. More than ever, Luke wished his father had taught him how to use the force. Extraterrestrial powers would be _really_ handy at times like this. “I'm a pretty truthful person. Which is why I'm sure I didn't do whatever you think I did.”

“I know,” Tim clapped a hand over his mouth. 

“Shut it,” Foggy hissed. 

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Something tells me you REALLY don't want to do this. Care to elaborate? It’s not like i’ll ever have the chance to tell anyone.”

“What are your connections like with the Rebel Alliance?” Foggy said. 

“That's called ‘deflection.’ It's a way of getting away from difficult questions. In some cases, it can be used for emotional abuse. Are you emotionally abusive, Foggy?”

The trooper spluttered. “Wha-- NO!”

“Cool!” Luke beamed. “Then don't deflect.”

“What are your connections like with the Rebel Alliance?” Tim asked. 

“See, now you’re drawing attention to yourself and away from your friend. That’s cause you know I'm right.”

“Using your logic,” Foggy groaned, “ _you’re_ the one deflecting. What are your connections like with the Rebel Alliance?”

Luke stared at him for a moment, and shook his head. “Nonexistent,” he said honestly. “I don't love the Emperor’s policies, but my father would never forgive me if I betrayed him for the Rebellion.” _Even though I agree with them far more than the Empire,_ he thought to himself. 

“Don't lie,” Foggy said. 

“Don't kidnap me!”

Tim choked back a laugh, turning back to the interrogation droid. “If you're going to be difficult…” he trailed off hesitantly. 

“I won't be,” Luke sighed. “And I'm being honest. My father is the one person I value more than anyone else. I wouldn't join the Rebellion without him with me, and he’ll never defect.”

“You sound far too dismayed about that,” Foggy scoffed. 

“I guess I do.”

Foggy stared at him in silence as he stood before the boy. Luke took a moment to glance about the room. It was small and dark, with four walls and a short ceiling. There was a crate in the corner, with a poorly concealed holocam recording the scene before them. Luke was in the center of the room, with Foggy in front of him. TIm stood in the other corner with the interrogation droid. 

“Nice place you got here,” Luke siad, staring at the dirt and grime coating the floor. 

“It's a rental,” Foggy said. 

Luke laughed mirthlessly. “I'm sure it is. We aren't on a ship, because I would be able to feel the engines. I don't think we’ve left Naboo either, because the air feels fresh in a way that most planet’s air don't. So, we’re still on my planet.”

“The Empire’s planet.”

“Naboo belongs to no government but its own.”

“The Emperor begs to differ,” Tim mumbled. 

Luke's eyes widened. “So _that’s_ who sent you here! Wait, is poor Timmy in the corner because he talks too much? Is that why you’re isolating him? Foggy, I'm disappointed.”

Foggy gaped at him. “How did you--wait, err, the Emperor didn't tell us to do anything. We did this on our own accord.”

“No you didn't,” Luke rolled his eyes. “My father can always tell when people are lying; you really think I can't do the same?”

The troopers glanced at one another nervously. “No?” Tim mumbled. 

Luke sighed, shaking his head. “You guys can tell the truth. Unless that holocam is broadcasting straight to the Emperor, word of this will not reach his ears, I promise you that.”

The duo stared at him silently. Suddenly, Tim dropped down onto the floor, sitting cross legged with his head in his hands. 

“He’ll kill my family,” he told Luke tearfully. “There are ten members of our legion that went missing a month ago, when you decided to run for office. Palpatine took them, and ordered us to interrogate and kill you if we ever wanted to see them again.”

Foggy shook his head. “Cut it, Tim!”

“We were just following orders!”

“Cut it!”

“Foggy,” Luke said slowly. “Is this true?

“Good soldiers follow orders.” Foggy said slowly. 

Luke exhaled sharply with a nod. “Alright. Okay, good soldiers follow orders. Got it. But… you aren't Palpatine’s soldiers. You don't follow his orders!”

“He's the Emperor!”

“He's a coward. He sent you to do his dirty work. He’ll most likely kill the members of your legion if he hasn't already, because they’re witnesses! Then, he’ll kill you.”

“I don't… we can't…” 

Luke frowned piteously at the troopers' confusion. The brainwashing that the troopers underwent was legendary; good soldiers follow orders, or else. “What if my father can save your brothers? What if no one has to die?”

Tim and Foggy looked at one another nervously. 

“What do you mean?” Foggy asked.

“Don't worry,” Luke said. “I have a plan.”

________

“We should be arriving in t-minus twenty minutes, my lord,” Piett said sharply. 

“Excellent,” Vader nodded. “When we arrive, I need all units combing the planet for Skywalker. Do _not_ fail me, Captain.”

Piett nodded, more than familiar with Vader’s classic threat. He turned to Admiral Ozzel, who was glaring at him vehemently. His attention was pulled away from his superior when he heard a throat being cleared behind him. 

When Piett whipped around in shock, he was met by the sight of Maximillian Veers staring at him with a raised brow. “Firmus,” he said, “when _exactly_ was the last time you slept?”

Piett sighed. “Not now, Max.”

When he looked back to Ozzel, he was greeted by the sight of the man ordering around officers on the bridge. Max sighed. “Soon, you’ll be Admiral and we won't be forced to deal with that deadbeat any longer.”

Piett glared at him. (Can we find another word for glared?) “I don't know _what_ you’re talking about.”

Veers chuckled. “Sure. Regardless, the Admiral is handling the search for Skywalker; it’s time for you to take a break.”

“Max, I can't--”

“Come to the Officer’s Lounge. Get some caf, spike it if need be, but take five minutes, Firmus. I will not stand to see you on this bridge for another hour. As your superior, you must listen to me.”

“You’re Army; you have no control over me.”

“Admiral Ozzel!” Veers called across the bridge.

“Shh!” Piett demanded, glancing nervously at the Sith who was lurking in the corner by a viewport. 

Veers waved him away as the Admiral haughtily walked over to them. “What, Veers?” the man said snobbily. 

Veers smiled at the man, looping an arm around Piett’s shoulders. “Do you think the Captain could use a few minutes… away from the bridge?”

A creepy grin spread across the Admiral’s face at the opportunity to take Piett down a few pegs. “Indeed,” Ozzel nodded. “Piett, go to the Officer’s Lounge. That’s an order.”

Piett glared at him. “Fine,” he snapped. He marched angrily away from Veers, who hurried after him to catch up. 

“Firmus!” he called. “I'm sorry for going above your head, but you haven't slept in days.”

“I'm fine,” the Captain insisted. “I'll go get my caf, so you can leave me be.”

“Firmus, you can't possibly be angry.”

Piett deflated, and shook his head. “I'm sorry, Max. I'm just…” 

“Stressed,” the General finished. “Hazard of the job.”

“As is dying, but we haven't done that yet.”

Veers chuckled, clapping the Navy man on the shoulder. “Not yet, oh Captain, my Captain. I have some drills to run with the Thundering Herd. I trust you to take a break and not turn back to the bridge the moment you see fit?”

“Of course,” Piett sighed. 

“Goodbye, Firmus.”

Piett waved at Veers’ retreating form with a sigh. All he wanted was to run his bridge in peace. Was that too much to ask?

His thoughts were cut off when his comm beeped angrily. _Oh, great,_ he thought. _Who died now?_

When he tapped a button on his comm, he was met by a hooded figure. “Captain Piett,” the distorted voice said. 

“Who is this?” Piett asked.

“Not important. I need to speak to Lord Vader, immediately. It's about Skywalker.”

Well. There went any hopes of getting a good cup of caf. 

“Why are you calling me?” he whispered as he hurried back to the bridge. 

“We need the comm to be private. Lord Vader’s comm could be monitored.”

_By who?_ Piett thought. 

“I'm guessing you're wondering who would dare to tap Vader’s comm?”

PIett just glared at the hooded figure. Finally, he was just outside of the bridge. “I would really rather you hadn't brought me into this,” he said. 

“I'm sorry,” the voice said. As distorted and mechanical as it sounded, it did seem apologetic. 

“Lord Vader,” Piett beckoned softly as he stepped towards the man. “This is for you.”

“What is the meaning of this, Piett?” the Sith grumbled. “I don't have time for your--”

He cut himself off with a choking gasp. For a second, the Captain was under the impression that the SIth was talking to someone else. But the moment faded, and an invisible force pulled the comm off of Piett’s wrist. The Sith stormed past him, nearly pushing Piett over as he walked. 

The Captain stared after him for a moment. After a few curious thoughts, Piett resolutely decided that he did NOT want to know. 

________

Five weeks later, Piett decided that he did, in fact, want to know. 

Of course, he only decided this after Skywalker, Vader, and two stormtroopers convicted the Emperor ( _the Emperor!_ ) of treason, and had the man executed. Apparently, Palpatine had kidnapped and nearly slaughtered ten members of the 501st, and arranged for Skywalker’s capture so the boy would never become King. 

Yes. Piett most DEFINITELY wanted to know. 

“You are aware,” Veers laughed, “that if you had asked a few more questions, you would have been pulled into the biggest coup in history?”

“My comm was used to tear down the Emperor,” Piett complained. “And no one told me!”

Veers burst into laughter, which was cut off by Piett’s (new) comm. “Don't worry, Firmus,” he smiled. “Maybe _that_ comm call will overthrow Emperor Vader.”

Piett sighed. “As if I would let that happen.”

“It's a miracle you aren't Admiral yet, what with your loyalty.”

Piett just shook his head at Veers’ antics, tapping a button on his comm. “Hello, this is Captain Piett. What can I do for you?”

“It’s Admiral now, Piett,” Vader’s familiar tone burst out off the comm. 

If the small machine wasn't attached to Piett’s wrist, he would have lobbed it across the officers lounge in shock. 

“....Ah, Admiral, my lord?” he squeaked. 

“Indeed. Report to the bridge immediately.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The comm cut off, and Piett gaped at his wrist. Veers, the traitor, burst into laughter at the shock on Piett’s face. “Well then, _Admiral_ ,” he clapped him on the back, “go on! Your new job awaits.”

Piett nodded, straightening up. “I will--”

“--celebrate later, I know. Enjoy it, Firmus. Something tells me you’ll be in this position for a long time.”

Piett smiled. For some reason, he thought so too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking about having Luke be tortured, but then I decided that he should be besties with his captors instead. I love Tim and Foggy! If you do, too, I can add them into some other things I write! Speaking of..... Im thinking of doing the surgical au next, then the babysitter one, then the ding-dong ditching. If you have any prompts, leave a comment, or just come scream at me on tumblr @togandtoyler
> 
> About the Naberries... Pooja is a meme lord, Ryoo is a cinnamon roll with a side of sin, Sola is a queen, Ruwee is The Grandfather, and Jobal is Molly Weasley but a grandmother.
> 
> Comments keep your girl writing! Pretty please tell me what you think; even if it's bad, I want to try my best to improve! Give me a shout on tumblr, or drop a comment to let me know what you think!
> 
> Love you all! Stay safe, happy, and beautiful! 
> 
> (p.s.: be happy!)
> 
> (p.p.s: Vader this whole chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ax7vatiCFeU )


	9. The Truth About the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A part 2 to the original surgery au, in which Luke unwillingly defects to Imperial Hospital, Zev is a flirt, Vader is jealous, Piett is a Tired Uncle, and Padme might not be as dead as she seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This is a part two of the surgery au that I meant to get out there like two days ago but I left my computer at my dads house and watched Queer Eye instead of being responsible and trying to get it back ;)
> 
> Anywayssss, this was suggested by a couple people, including @ToManyFandomss101 and @Pinkie1201 . Again, I know nothing about surgery, or medical-ness in general, so pretty please bear with me! 
> 
> Happy reading!!

“Well, are you going to move in with him?” Luke asked as he placed a patient chart back on the counter. 

“I don't know!” Leia groaned. “You’ve seen his shitty apartment. Not to mention that car of his that's always parked outside. What does he call it again? The ‘ _Millennium Eagle_ ’?”

Luke laughed. “The Millennium _Falcon_. You were close.”

“What kind of person names their own car?”

“Hey, I named my car! Besides, the kind of person who names their own car is the kind of person you’re attracted to.”

“Very funny. At least I have a boyfriend--you’ve been single for the past decade.”

“You probably won't have a boyfriend for much longer if you move in with him. You two already fight enough; do you really think you can handle living with the guy?”

“I can handle Han, it’s Chewie that I'm worried about.”

“You love Chewie!”

“Not as a roommate. He slobbers everywhere and there’s always a layer of his hair on Han’s couch,” Leia sighed as she and Luke walked down the corridor. “And he isn't going anywhere anytime soon. He survived dog cancer, a car accident, and living with Han for all ten years of his life. I swear, that dog will outlive all of us.”

“Oh, that’s true,” Luke smirked. “Chewie is the only deity strong enough to survive. He _will_ outlive us all, there’s no doubt.”

“No wonder Han is so devoted to him,” Leia laughed. “Anyways, how are things on your end? How’s Darth Daddy?”

“Still confusing. I think he wants me to move in with him but doesn't want to say anything.”

“How do you know?”

“He’s been making tiny comments about my apartment and letting me sleepover in a spare bedroom at his literal penthouse when my place is literally a block down the street from the hospital.”

“Ah. But why wouldn't he say something to you about it? It’s been three years since the two of you met, can't you talk to each other?”

“I think he's afraid of rejection,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Then again, though, I don't really know.”

“Dr. Skywalker, Dr. Skywalker!” shouted a resident as he ran over to Luke and Leia. 

“Yes, Dak?” Luke said while Leia rolled her eyes. 

“Kriffing residents,” she mumbled to Luke, who held back a laugh. 

“We used to be them, remember,” he whispered. 

“Yes, but that was years ago. We’re attendings now; we know what we’re doing!”

“Er, Dr. Mothma needed you in her office,” Dak interrupted nervously. “She said it was urgent. It’s something about the merge…”

Leia burst out laughing and clapped Luke on the shoulder. The _merge_ had happened ages ago, and Luke was _still_ Mothma’s figurehead. “Have fun, poster boy,” she said as she walked away from him down the corridor. “I've got a solo heart transplant to prep for!”

“You suck!” Luke called after her. He turned back to Dak, who was still staring at him with wide eyes. “Don't you have patients to check on?”

Dak jumped and nodded. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir!” 

He raced down the hall and Luke called after him, “Don't call me sir!”

_______

“You needed to see me, ma’am?” Luke asked as he lingered in the doorway of Mothma’s office. 

“Yes, Doctor Skywalker,” she said, not looking up from her files. “If you could give me just a moment…” 

“Of course,” he smiled, awkwardly shifting on his feet. 

He stood there for a few minutes while Mon Mothma hastily scrawled away on the papers. When she finally glanced up at him, Luke was picking at the corner of his scrub shirt. 

“Have a seat, Doctor,” she said with a gesture to the armchair in front of her desk. 

Luke sat down hesitantly. “The last time I sat here wasn’t exactly pleasant,” he reminded her. 

“You gained a father out of it, did you not?”

“Of course. But the experience that led up to that was… unfavorable.”

“Well,” Mothma smiled thinly, “perhaps you will see that this experience will have a silver lining as well.”

“What do you need me to do now?” Luke sighed. 

“I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Of course not. What do you _want_ me to do now?” He was tired of Mothma’s way of tiptoeing around the subject.

“I believe you personally know many of the doctors that were transferred to Imperial Alliance Hospital?”

“Yes…” Luke frowned. “Well, some of them at least. Wes, Hobbie, Wedge…” 

“Yes, well, they’ve had some difficulty assimilating to life in a new hospital. I was hoping that you would be able to give them a helping hand.”

“How? I mean, it’s not like I see them, or…” he trailed off as he realized what Mothma was proposing. “You want me to transfer to Imperial Hospital?!”

“The second branch of Imperial-Alliance Hospital,” she sharply corrected. “It would only be temporary. You're the best neurology attending we have, next to your father. We wouldn't lose you for good.”

“How long is temporary?” he said as he resolutely ignored the ‘best neuro resident’ comment. 

“Just a month,” Mothma said. “We can't leave you there forever, and your father-”

“My father knew about this?!”

“-insisted that you wouldn't stay there for long. He's very protective of you.” 

“Believe me, I know. When is this supposed to happen?”

“Tomorrow evening,” Mothma nodded. “Your shift will end this morning, and then you’ll check into work at the second branch of Imperial-Alliance.”

“Why am I doing this again?”

“To boost morale.”

“Morale? What are we, soldiers?”

“No,” she laughed. “We’re surgeons. Believe me, it's not much different.”

________

“Why wouldn't you tell me?!” Luke exclaimed as he burst into the O.R., holding a mask over his mouth. 

“Luke,” Vader said as he delicately maneuvered his tools through the patient’s brain. “I was under the impression that you were to be observing Leia's surgery; clearly I was mistaken.”

“Why didn't you tell me I'm being shipped off to the Empire?!” he exclaimed. “I deserved to know.”

“You’re leaving for Imperial-Alliance?” Piett gaped from his place at Vader’s side. 

“Could you _not_ call it that?”

“Listen young one,” Vader sighed. “I only knew a few moments before Mothma decided to tell you. In all actuality, she was planning on sending you away for a year.”

“Why did you let her send me away at all?”

“I believe it's good for you to get out, young one. You spend far too much time in this hospital.” Luke could hear the uncomfortable twinge in Vader’s tone. 

“Hey,” Luke narrowed his eyes, “you don't like this either, do you?!”

“While it was not the best option-”

“I believe that Dr. Vader wants to keep you protected for himself, Skywalker,” Veers intoned humorously. Vader glared at him, but was met with a small shrug. “I can understand. I would want the same for my son.”

“Indeed. Luke, we shall discuss this at a later time. Now, would you like to scrub in for one last surgery before you go?”

Luke glared at him. “You know I do, jerk.”

He spun on his heel and walked out of the room to scrub his hands as Vader smiled after him. “Yes,” he said softly, “you are my son.”

________

“You’re leaving us?!” Leia exclaimed, gaping at Luke. 

“Well, it's not like it’s my choice,” he replied. “What about you, have you decided whether or not you’re moving in with Han?”

“That’s what you're focusing on? You're leaving, and _that’s_ what you’re focusing on.”

“Hey, guys, what’s up?” Han said, slipping into a seat beside Leia. 

“Luke's abandoning us,” she scoffed.

“I'm abandoning you,” Luke sighed, in unison with the aspiring heart surgeon.

He raised an eyebrow at the duo. “You really shouldn't talk at the same time,” he shivered. “It creeps people out. If I didn't know better, I'd say the two of you are long-lost twins.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Luke laughed. “If I had a twin sister, I'd know about it.”

“Did you not hear the part about Luke abandoning us?” Leia snapped. 

Han turned to glare at Luke. “You're abandoning us?”

“He’s defecting to the Empire.”

“ _You're defecting to the Empire_?!”

Luke sighed, and his shoulders slumped. “It's only for a month. I'm already anxious about it, so don't make it worse.”

Han’s gaze softened. “It's Mothma, isn't it?” Luke nodded, and Han groaned. “When will that old crone leave you alone?!”

“On the bright side, it’s only for a month,” Leia smiled as she reached across the table to rub Luke’s shoulder. “It'll be alright.”

“Right,” he nodded. “It'll be alright.”

“Yeah, no, right,” Han nodded, obviously lying. “Of course!”

_________

It was _Not_ Alright™. Within the first fifteen minutes of working at the ‘second branch of Imperial-Alliance Hospital’, Luke was ready to be done. 

For one thing, he was out of his normal orange scrubs, and was instead wearing restrictive military-green clothing. Also, the people of Imperial-Alliance Hospital were… well, for lack of a better word… 

Terrible. 

One of them, with a coat that labeled him as Dr. Tarkin, slammed into Luke in the hall, shot him a dirty look, and walked away without an apology. Another, Dr. Ozzel (who, according to gossip, was Vader’s ex-Piett), had a grudge against Luke, and tore him down every chance he got. 

Luke wasn't exactly thriving here, but on the bright side, at least he had some old friends to help him cope. 

“So,” Wedge said, dropping into a chair beside Luke, “how are you liking the Empire?”

“You work here and you still call it that?” he asked incredulously. 

“Hell yeah,” Hobbie scoffed. “Just cause we work here now doesn't mean we don't still rep our squad.”

“Alliance for life!” Wes cheered, raising his juice box.

Luke laughed and nodded his head. “Here’s to that.”

The group clinked their drinks together, revelling in the familiar feeling of working together. When Wes, Hobbie, and Wedge were transferred to the Empire, Luke had nearly lost his shit at the realization that the Rogues would no longer be together. 

While Wedge, Wes, and Hobbie had gone through their intern year just before Luke arrived at Alliance Memorial Hospital, they taught him the ins and outs of the hospital, pranking doctors and nurses all the while. Because of their slightly immature tendencies, Mon Mothma had fondly nicknamed the quartet ‘the Rogues’. They had been wreaking havoc ever since. 

“The people here are… odd,” Luke said, his shoulders tense. “People seem to care more about their careers than their patients.”

“We were like that too, once,” Wedge shrugged. “I mean, we’re surgeons. Being overly ambitious is our calling card.”

“True,” Hobbie shrugged. “But people here take it to a whole new level.”

“Ah, that is true, my dearest gentlemen,” Wes nodded faux-snobbishly. “But the halls of the ‘ _second branch of Imperial-Alliance Hospital_ ’ have not yet seen the pranking legend that is… Rogue Squadron.”

“ _Squadron_?” Luke wheezed as the group burst into laughter at Wes’ uppity-accent. “What are we, fighter pilots?”

“Could you imagine Hobbie in a plane?!” Wedge gasped, resulting in a light hearted punch from Hobbie. 

“Shut it, Antilles!” he laughed. “We can think about the doubtlessly heroic pranks later; right now there's something much more important to do.”

“And that would be?” Luke’s eyes shone. 

“To ask you about Dad Vader,” Hobbie shrugged. “Duh.” 

“Oh. thats not that important…” 

“Your father is an award winning genius, not to mention a literal billionaire. What’s next? Is your mother a queen?” Wes joked.

Luke chuckled nervously, glancing down at his hands. His mother’s identity was a well-kept secret that his father did NOT want to get out. Though Padme was long-since dead, Luke’s identity could put him at risk. He was, _technically_ a prince (though he shuddered to think of it), and Vader did not enjoy the idea of Luke’s life being in danger because of his station. 

“All women are queens,” Hobbie reminded him. 

“If she breathes,” Wes’ eyes narrowed, “she’s a thot.”

Wedge sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ignore them,” he told Luke. “In all seriousness, though… how are you adjusting?”

“It was three years ago,” Luke shrugged. “It was surreal at first, I mean, it still is, but most of the shock has worn off.”

“You must’ve been overjoyed. Hell, I know I would be,” Hobbie snorted. 

“Do you argue, though?” Wes wondered. “I mean, he’s Death Vader. You’re Sunshine Skywalker. You can't possibly get along all the time.”

“We don't!” Luke laughed. “Not all the time. We still have our differences, but--”

Suddenly, he was cut off when the group’s pagers beeped loudly, demanding attention. Wedge frowned as he picked up his tray. “I never got my chance to eat my cinnamon roll.”

“Don't worry,” Wes shrugged. “I'm sure Luke will be fine with you eating him later in an on-call room…” 

“WESLEY ARNOLD JENSEN!” Luke gaped as he leapt to his feet. 

Wes beamed, running backwards out of the cafeteria. “Catch me if you can, bitch!”

Luke stared for a second, then ran after him, following the man down to the ER. Wedge and Hobbie followed, racing down the halls and nearly crashing into several nurses as they went.

When they finally reached the ground floor, they were met with the sound of Dr. Ozzel’s nasally voice commanding the doctors. 

“A tanker blew on the I-69,” he said boredly. “Expect as many as 50 traumas--this could be a bad one.”

The doctors nodded, some clamoring with questions, as Wes, Wedge, Hobbie, and Luke sighed and put on protective gowns to help shield any patients from germs and bacteria that can be easily picked up in the hospital. 

“I hope I get to smash some bones,” Wes sighed, unabashed. The entourage stared at him worriedly. “What?” he groaned. “I'm an orthopedic surgeon; you have to break bones in order to fix them!”

Still, the group gawked. Finally, Luke just shook his head and walked out to the entryway for the ambulances, Wedge and Hobbie right behind him.

“It's a stress reliever,” Wes mumbled as he hurried after the trio. 

Already, three ambulances had arrived at the hospital. Wes and Wedge rushed over to the first, while Hobbie tended to the second and Luke to the third. 

“What’ve we got?” he asked as the paramedics unloaded a middle aged man on the gentry. 

Shockingly enough, another civilian hopped out after him. “Bad head injury, and most likely some internal bleeding. He’s been out cold since we grabbed him.”

Luke raised an eyebrow as he turned to rush the man into the hospital. “Who are you?”

“I'm Zev,” the man said. “I'm a trauma surgeon. I was on my way to work when THIS happened.”

“Maybe that’s a sign saying that you shouldn't go to work,” Luke muttered, grabbing a flashlight and shining it into the patient’s eyes. “Any I.D. on this guy?”

“He had a driver’s license,” Zev nodded, flashing the card in Luke’s face. “His name’s Gary Ferguson, 34 years old. His blood type is A-negative.”

“Got it,” Luke nodded, waving at an intern. “Start a chart for this guy,” he told the rookie. “Gary Ferguson, age 34. Blood type; A-Neg. Take him up for a C.T., and rush it.”

“Got it,” the intern squeaked, pulling the gurney towards the elevator. 

Zev watched her go, and looked down at his hands. “Huh,” he said, glancing back up at Luke. “that was fast.” 

Luke snorted. “Well, we have to make sure he isn't bleeding internally. If his organs are damaged, we need to fix THAT, and then see what we can do for his head injury.”

“Efficient,” Zev nodded. “What if he dies in the couple minutes it takes to get the scans?”

“He’s stable,” Luke shrugged. “If he was unstable, I’d book an O.R. right away.”

He heard the sound of sirens blaring as another ambulance pulled up to the hospital. “Thank you for your help, Zev,” he smiled, turning towards the entrance to the hospital. “I've got to go!’

Zev rushed after him. “Wait up! Can't I help you?”

Luke stared at him for a moment. “You don't work here.”

Zev laughed. “I work at the other branch of this place! Doesn't that count for anything?”

“You don't work at Alliance Memorial,” Luke laughed. “I'd recognize you!”

“What if I told you today was my first day on the job?” Zev asked. 

“I'd ask you to prove it.”

“What if I couldn't?”

“I'd ask you how I know you’re even a surgeon.”

“ _That_ I can prove,” he said, whipping out his wallet. He thumbed through the cards, finally pulling out a small plastic rectangle. He whipped it around to show Luke, who barely gave it a second glance. “I'm an army doctor. I got back from Afghanistan a year ago; been working at Johns Hopkins since.”

“Impressive,” Luke nodded. In the back of his mind, he wondered if he had heard this before. “Have I heard of you?”

“Maybe my father,” Zev nodded. “Maximilian Veers? Tall guy, sort of grumpy.”

“Oh!” Luke exclaimed, slapping his forehead. “Veers talks about you all the time.”

“All good things?”

“Of course.”

“Glad to know I have a reputation,” he smirked. 

“Don't squander it now,” Luke sighed. “My supervisor hates me, otherwise I'd ask if you could work here for the day.”

Zev just smirked. “Go help your people,” he waved towards the ambulances. “I'll pull a few strings.”

Luke eyed him suspiciously, but shook his head, and hurried out to meet the paramedics. Zev watched him go with his hands in his pockets. When Luke spared a glance back at the man, he was instantly reminded of Maximilian Veers himself. 

He turned away with a shiver. No, Zev didn't look _exactly_ like Veers Sr.. After all, Veers was NOT that hot.

________

“Guess what, stranger?” Zev said, sliding over to Luke.

The duo was standing at the counter of the E.R. Luke was signing off on Gary Ferguson’s chart when Zev crept up behind him.

“Don't just creep up out of nowhere!” he exclaimed with a pout. “You'll give me a heart attack.”

“I'll resuscitate you,” Zev shrugged. “After all, I'm here with you all week…” 

Luke rolled his eyes, scrawling notes down on the chart. Then, Zev’s words hit him like a truck. “All week?!”

“Your supervisors may not like you, but I can be very persuasive.” He leaned closer to Luke, licking his lips.

“And flirty,” Luke blushed. “Very flirty.”

Zev laughed, leaning away from the surgeon. “True,” he said. “Don't fault me for it, though. I can lay off when I need to.”

“As long as you don't flirt with patients, it's fine,” Luke muttered. “So, all week?”

“Yep,” Zev nodded. “My 48 hour shift starts… now!”

Luke glanced up at the clock. It was 1:00 on the dot. “Nice. Mine started at 7 A.M..”

“Yikes,” Zev winced. 

“Yep,” Luke said, popping his lips on the ‘p’. He spun away from the counter, beckoning Zev to follow him. “I'd give you a tour, but I'm new here too. This is my first shift.”

“Ever?!” Zev exclaimed.

“No, I worked at the Alliance--err, the _first_ branch of Imperial-Alliance Hospital until a couple days ago.”

“So you’re one of the transfers.”

“Not exactly,” he mumbled, walking into the elevator. His army green scrubs stood out in the dark metal of the elevator, his white coat stark against his form. Zev was wearing scrubs, too; he must’ve changed out of his bloodied clothes. 

“Then what’s your story?”

“It's complicated.” Luke pressed the button for the third floor as Zev hopped into the elevator beside him. 

“What’s on the third floor?”

“Uh, Gary Ferguson’s scan results.”

“Fun,” Zev said sarcastically. “Wanna scrub in together?”

“It's my patient.”

“I had him first.”

“That was before you officially worked here,” Luke shrugged. “He’s mine.”

“No, he’s my patient.”

“No!” 

“Yeah.” 

“Nope.”

“Yep!”

“No.” 

“You know, we could stand here and argue, or we could do something more productive.”

“Like what?”

“Like telling me your name,” Zev prompted. “Your coat says ‘Skywalker.’”

“Because that’s my name,” Luke shrugged. The elevator dinged as the doors slid open. Luke hurried down the hall, glancing around for the scan room. “Huh.” 

“This isn't the floor with the C.T. scans, is it?” Zev asked amusedly. 

The floor they were on was painted bright yellow, with footprints and arrows on the tile flooring. The halls were colorful, and the doctor’s around them wore whie coats with animal patches on the sleeves. 

“We’re on the kids floor, aren't we?” Zev asked. Luke groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Do you want me to ask someone for directions?” Luke nodded, peeking out from behind his fingers. 

Zev waved to a doctor, a stunning smile on his face. “Hi! Could you tell us where to find the C.T. scans? We’re new here.”

New here is right. 

________

Five minutes later, the duo stood in front of a light box, studying the brain scans. 

“His frontal lobe is damaged,” Zev frowned. “Even if we repair what we can, chances are his personality will be shifted dramatically.”

“True,” Luke sighed. “The bleeder is right… here,” he pointed to a dark spot on the scan, “so if we go in from the top of the head we should be able to repair it to the best of our abilities.”

Zev agreed. “Has anyone called the family?”

“Yes,” Luke nodded. “He has a wife, and two adopted kids from Kenya. They’re in the lobby now.”

“Lets go talk to them.”

Luke nodded, following Zev out of the room.

________

“Your husband suffered a massive brain injury,” Luke told the woman gently. “Now, I can do a surgery to ensure his safety, but the main issue occurred in his frontal lobe.”

A teenager who was standing beside the woman exhaled. “The frontal lobe holds components for a person's personality,” he told his mother in an accented voice. “It is possible that Papa’s personality could be changed by this.”

“Changed?!” she exclaimed. “How?” 

“Your son is right,” Luke said calmly. “You have a very smart little boy.”

“I'm thirteen,” the kid said. “I am not ‘little’.”

“Of course,” Zev smiled. “Dr. Skywalker can perform a surgery to help your husband survive. The sooner we do so, the less chance there is that Gary’s personality will shift.” 

The woman exhaled slowly, nodding to herself. “Do it,” she said. “Do the surgery.”

“Of course,” Luke nodded. “I will go prep your husband; Zev, can you explain the risks?”

“Yes, Dr. Skywalker,” he replied smoothly. “As with all brain surgeries, there is a chance that complications will occur…” 

Luke walked over to a surgical nurse with a smile on his face. “Hello!” he said. “Would you mind booking an O.R. for Gary Ferguson? This is his chart.” He handed the nurse the patient’s information. 

The nurse nodded. “Sure thing, kid,” he said. “You the surgeon?”

“Yes.” 

The man squinted at Luke’s nametag. “Skywalker?” he exclaimed. 

“Yes, that would be me,” Luke said shyly. 

“I worked for your father a while back,” the man said. “Back during the war. He was a good man; it’s a shame he died in that plane crash.”

It was always fun to remind himself that almost everyone thought his father was dead. 

“What's your name?” Luke asked. 

“My real name is Finnigan, but your Pops would know me as Foggy,” the nurse told him. “I was one of his troopers; a few months after he died, me and Tim here,” he waved at another nurse, who was standing across the hall, “were discharged. We figured we should try something new, and ended up going to med school.”

“That’s amazing!” Luke said. “I'm sure my father would lo--err, would've loved to know that.”

“Like father like son, right?”

“You have no idea.”

_________

Five hours later, Luke stepped out of the O.R., his shoulders slumped. He leaned against the wall, pulling off the sterile gown with a yawn. 

Zev stepped out beside him with a sigh. “We should go tell the family.”

Luke nodded. “And get some coffee.”

Zev chuckled, looping an arm around his shoulders. “And get some coffee,” he echoed.

________

“Mrs. Ferguson, it is my pleasure to tell you that Gary’s surgery went marvelously,” Luke told her. 

She sobbed in relief, and Zev winced. “Again, though, we won't know until he wakes up whether his personality was compromised.”

“You saved him!” she said. “That’s enough.”

Luke and Zev shared a glance. “He’s in the ICU. I’ll have a nurse show you to his room.”

The woman smiled, glancing down at her sleeping children. The teenage boy stirred in his sleep, and she rested a loving hand on his shoulder. “Did you hear that?” she whispered. “Papa’s gonna be alright.”

Luke smiled at the family, walking over to a familiar nurse. “Tim?”

The nurse whipped around, a guarded look on his face. “Do I know you?”

“In a way,” Luke smiled. “I just met Foggy; you knew my father, Anakin.”

Tim whistled lowly. “You’re Anakin’s kid? I didn't even know he had one.”

Luke laughed. “I know. Surprise! Anyways, can you take that woman and her kids,” he pointed to Mrs. Ferguson, “to room R-11?”

“Anything for Anakin’s boy,” the ex-soldier nodded, clapping Luke on the shoulder as he walked over to the family. As Luke watched him go, he couldn't help but wonder how they had never realized that Anakin and Vader were the same person. 

Oh well. He could always tell them later. 

When Tim greeted the family, Zev nodded to them and turned back to Luke, hurrying over to the doctor. “How about that coffee?” he asked with a smile. 

“Honestly, that sounds--” Luke was cut off by a beep from his pager. He sighed. “Amazing.” 

“Go ahead, Skyguy,” Zev spoke with a shrug of his shoulders. “I'm here all week.”

Luke gave him a Look™, and bolted to the staircase. He rushed down to the E.R., hurling himself into the emergency room. 

“What’s going on, Janson?” he demanded to know. 

“Someone’s car slid on the ice,” Wes told him, joining Luke as he ran towards the entrance. “Which, of course, resulted in a six-car pileup.”

“Joy,” Luke muttered. “And here I was, thinking I'd have time for coffee.”

“In your dreams.”

“I can't dream if I don't sleep!”

The duo hurried out the door to greet the two ambulances that pulled up the hospital. The paramedics burst out the back door, pushing a gurney out of the vehicle. Luke ran to help, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the patient. 

Sitting upright on the gurney was a small brunette woman with greying hair that stretched down to her waist. She had a small beauty mark on her left cheek, and her eyes were clenched shut. But it wasn't her looks that caught Luke’s eye… 

It was the long piece of jagged metal protruding out of her chest. 

“What the hell happened to her?!” Luke exclaimed. 

“Don't know, kid, but it’s your job to fix it,” the paramedic said. A large man jumped out of the ambulance, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked like a bodyguard. Inside the ambulance sat a short woman, who had been hidden by the man’s hulking form. She was nearly identical to the one on the gurney. Tears ran down her cheeks. 

“You have to help her!” she exclaimed in a strangely accented voice. “I just got her back, I can't lose her again.”

With that, Luke spurred himself into action. “Ma’am, my name is Doctor Skywalker. I swear to you, I'll do everything in my power to make sure that she lives.” Luke spun to glare at the hospital workers behind him. “Gonna need some help over here!” he hollered. A few nurses and doctors rushed over to him, helping him push the gurney into the E.R. The woman’s companion followed closely after him. 

“What's her name?” he asked the guard, who just glared at him. 

“That’s confidential.”

Luke frowned. “What do you--” The man flashed a badge at Luke, and his jaw dropped. “You’re an FBI agent?”

The man grimly nodded. “And her name is confidential.”

Luke stared for a moment, his shock turning into confusion. “I'm her doctor; I need to have a full history work-up in order to give her the best chance I can.”

“Chance?” the woman asked. 

“To survive.”

________

“We need someone from cardio,” Luke determined. He and Zev were standing contemplatively in front of the woman. “According to scans, the metal is right up against her heart. When we take it out, we could risk puncturing the heart wall, causing the right ventricle to burst. The problem is that our cardio attending just started a heart and lungs transplant.”

“What about Ozzel?” Zev asked. “Didn't you say he was a Cardio God?”

“Cardio Captain, if anything,” Luke rolled his eyes. “From what I've heard, Ozzel’s work is deadly at worst and abysmal at best. Besides, he left.”

“Left?”

“Isn't on call, just doesn't care. You name it, either way, he’s gone,” Luke sighed. “I have an idea, though.”

“And that would be?”

________

Meanwhile, at Alliance Memorial Hospital, Darth Vader was knuckle deep in a man’s brain tissue. 

“Piett,” he said, “scalpel.”

The doctor made to hand him the tool when a phone rang. Loudly.

Vader growled. “Who’s phone is that?”

Everyone was silent. 

“What have I said about _telephones_ in my O.R.?”

Still, everyone was silent. 

Finally, an intern piped up, “Uhm, this is Piett’s phone.”

Vader slowly turned to glare at his assistant. “Piett.”

The man winced. “My apologies, sir. I meant to put it on silent. Intern, silence the call.”

“My name’s--”

“Just do it,” Piett snapped semi-hysterically. Vader can easily make or break a man’s career; he didn't want to be the man’s next victim. 

Two seconds later, the phone rang again. “ _Piett,_ ” Vader grunted. 

“My apologies. Intern!”

“I'll cut off the call, sir.”

One second later, the phone rang yet again. “Turn off the phone,” Vader barked. 

“O-o-of course,” the intern stuttered, hurriedly shutting off Piett’s phone. 

And so, there was silence… for two blissful minutes. 

“Firmus,” Veers sighed as he burst into the O.R., “answer your goddamn phone so Luke doesn't call me.”

“Luke?” Vader asked eagerly. 

“It's for Piett,” Veers said, holding his phone to the heart surgeon’s ear. 

Dimly, in the back of his mind, Piett wondered if Vader had ever ruined someone’s career because his son didn't want to talk to him. 

He didn't like the idea. 

“Hello, Luke,” Piett sighed. “What do you need? Oh… I see… no, I'm not busy… I can be there in five minutes.”

Vader looked at the man curiously. When he pulled his ear away from the phone, Piett turned to Vader and said, “Luke needs me to consult on a case. Apparently, it’s urgent. May I use the helicopter?”

If Piett didn't know better, he’d say that Vader took glee in his discomfort. 

“Of course, Doctor,” Vader said. “And when you arrive, kindly remind my son that I am, in fact, his father, and I would appreciate a ‘hello’ once in a while.”

Piett winced. No way would he tell Luke that. “Of course, sir.”

He shucked off his gloves and gown, hurrying out the door. He had a life to save.

________

“Well,” Piett sighed, taking in the sight of the woman before him, “you certainly weren't lying when you told me it would be difficult.”

“As if I would let you down,” Luke laughed. “So… can you do it?”

“We need to hurry. When did you get her here?”

“About half an hour ago. According to the scans, the metal is right next to her heart. It could kill her to take it out, and it'll kill her to leave it in.”

Piett sighed. “And she's been unconscious since she got here?”

“Yes. She’s stable, but we think the metal pierced her liver. It’s the only thing stopping the bleeding, but it’s also the only thing causing it.”

Piett bit his lip, staring at the girl. “What’s her name?”

“Jane Doe.”

“Doesn't she have family here?”

Luke glared at him vehemently. “I've been talking to the family since she got here. There's a sister in tears and an FBI agent who’s insisting that all of her personal information is, and I quote, ‘confidential.’”

“Charming.”

“Agreed,” he slouched down. “I wonder what she was driving to.”

“She was speeding, correct?”

“Yeah. Her sister was right behind her, but they won't tell me where she was going or why she was in such a rush.”

Luke frowned at her, and Piett studied his troubled face. “There's something you’re not saying… isn't there?”

Luke bit his lip. “She's tiny. She has hardly any fat on her; that coupled with the nearly-invisible scar on her throat makes me think she's been living off of feeding tubes for the past… who knows how long. Her muscles show signs of atrophication, which makes me think she's been stationary for a long while.”

Piett cocked his head, staring at her. “It sure is a mystery. But it's not our responsibility to solve it.”

“I know…” 

“We’re her doctors, Luke. Nothing more.”

“Right. Anyways, what are you gonna do? The metal is so close to her heart… one wrong move and--”

“I know,” Piett nodded. “We’ll have to support the shrapnel as best we can, get it out, and hope that the bleeding isn't too much to handle. Worst comes to worst, we’ll have to take out part of her liver, if it's too mangled to save.”

“That's a thing people do?!” Luke exclaimed. 

Piett fixed him with a grim look. “Book an O.R.. The longer we wait, the more likely it is that the metal will tear her heart’s wall.”

Luke sighed and nodded to an intern, who ran over to the O.R. board. “What happens if her heart tears?”

Piett closed his eyes, rubbing his eyelids. “I'll try to patch it up, but… if the damage is that bad, we won't be able to save her.”

Luke cringed and nodded, leaving the room quickly. Sola, who was sitting just outside the room, leapt to her feet the second she saw him. “Is she okay? What’s going on?”

“We’re prepping her for surgery right now. There's no telling how long the surgery will take; you should go home and get some rest.”

“Go home?” she laughed mirthlessly. “ _Go home_?! My sister could _die_ and you want me to _go home_?!”

Luke flinched. He knew that the patient’s families were always stressed, but it didn't make their shouts and hollers any easier. “I just mean you should rest,” he explained. “I can set you up in an on-call room. It’s against procedure, but in times like these…” 

Sola slowly breathed, shaking her head. “You said your name was Skywalker?”

“Yes,” he replied calmly. “My name is Luke Skywalker; my father’s a doctor, too. The best of the best.”

She inhaled sharply when she heard his full name, and shook her head to herself. “Tell me about the surgery. I need to know everything.”

The FBI agent beside her just sat there quietly as she stared desperately into Luke’s eyes. Luke felt a burst of contempt for this man creep up inside of him. How could he be so cold at a time like this?

“A team of doctors will pull the metal out of your sister’s chest,” he said gently. “Then, we’ll attempt to salvage the piece of her liver that was…” 

As Luke prattled on, Sola nodded, biting her lip so hard that it drew blood. But Luke didn't stop talking. At the moment, he knew it was what she needed.

________

“What do you mean, I can't scrub in?!” Luke exclaimed rushing after Piett as he hurried to O.R. 2. 

“I mean,” Piett ground out, “you can't scrub in. I don't want anyone who ISN'T a professional general or cardiothoracic surgeon in that O.R.. It'll just be added baggage that I can't make room for.”

“Jane Doe is _my_ patient! You can't just--”

“You called me for a consultation. I'm sorry, Luke, you know I am, but I am trying to save this woman’s life.” The two stopped just outside of the operating room. “Besides, the girl’s sister requested that you stay with her.”

“Sola? Why?” 

“I don't know, Luke. But the patient’s family is our family, too; so please, go and comfort her. This is a terrible time for that poor woman.”

“I know that!” Luke insisted. “Of course, I know that, but--”

“No buts about it,” Piett demanded. “You are staying with her family, and that is _final_.”

Luke stared at him in silence for a moment, before saying, “This is why Veers is the fun uncle.”

Piett promptly choked on his spit, garnering a cheerful laugh from Luke. “I'm not--why… what?!”

Luke sighed. “Good luck on the surgery, Piett. Please save her. I won't know what to tell her sister if she doesn't make it.”

Piett gaped at Luke for a moment, shook himself off, and said, “I'll do my best.”

“I know… Uncle Firmus.”

Luke smiled at the man’s balk, throwing him a lazy salute. “Luke,” Piett choked, “you--”

“Save her, Piett,” Luke reminded him. “I mean it.”

________

“Drink this,” he said, handing Sola a paper cup filled to the brim with water. “I haven't seen you drink anything since you got here.”

Jane Doe had been in surgery for two hours now. Luke gradually gave and received updates on her status, which had begun to calm Sola down. The woman had slowly relaxed, though she was still more than a little anxious. 

“Thank you,” she said, grabbing the cup of water. The duo was sitting in the waiting area for family while the FBI agent stayed just outside of Jane Doe’s O.R.

“You’re welcome,” Luke smiled. His leg twitched as he pondered whether or not to ask Sola why she had wanted him to wait with her. 

“I'm guessing you’re wondering why I wanted you here,” she said, her voice gravelly from crying. 

Luke gaped at her. “How did--”

“I'm a mother, dear,” Sola said. “A mother always knows. Did I tell you thatI've got two little girls, just around your age. Ryoo and Pooja. You would like them.”

Luke smiled softly. “Are they a lot like you?”

“Ryoo is,” Sola smiled. “Pooja reminds me of myself and my sister.”

“You and your sister must be close.”

“We were not as close as I thought.”

“Were?”

Sola seemed to hesitate for a moment, before slowly saying, “My sister has been in a coma for the past twenty five years.”

Luke’s jaw dropped. “That…” explains the lack of body fat, the scar on her throat “... wow. What happened?”

Sola studied Luke’s eyes carefully. “She was in an airplane crash. As far as I know, she was the only survivor.”

Luke frowned. “That's… an oddly familiar story.” 

Sola leaned forward eagerly. “How do you mean?”

“It's just… nothing, actually. Sorry.” 

She deflated, but smiled to cover up her disappointment. “It's quite alright. Anyways, Pa--err, my sister, just woke up today. It was a medical miracle! I… I just got her back. I cannot lose her again.”

Luke nodded reassuringly. “I promise we will do everything in our power to make sure that your sister survives.”

“I know. But what if that’s not good enough?”

“It will be. Piett, the cardiothoracic surgeon operating on your sister, is the best there is. I called him in for a reason, you know,” Luke joked lightly. 

“I'm sure you did,” Sola grinned. “How did you meet the man?”

“He’s my father’s assistant.”

Sola’s eyes widened and she leapt to her feet. “Your _father_?! Anakin survived?!”

Heads turned to stare at them, and Luke leaned back in shock. “Yes?” 

Sola fumed. “I swear. To _fucking_. God.”

________

Vader’s brow creased as he stared intensely at the screen. He was performing a posterior fossa decompression on an eight year old boy. Needless to say, he couldn't afford to mess up. Any distraction, welcome or not, could result in this child losing his life. _Certainly no_ phone calls _would be welcome,_ Vader thought, reminding himself of Luke’s call to Piett earlier that day. 

Luke had called Piett, apparently requesting assistance on a cardio case that had come through the Empire’s E.R.. Piett, of course, had dropped all he was doing in order to rush to his son’s aide. 

Which Vader appreciated. 

Honestly!

It was just. Well. Luke could have called _him_ , instead of Piett. Then, when Vader learned that the case was related to cardio, he would have handed the phone to Piett immediately. 

But Luke was just trying to eliminate the middleman. 

Right?

If Luke was truly in trouble, he would call for his father. 

… Right?

Vader's thoughts were interrupted by a blaringly loud phone call. “ _Now_ who’s phone is it?” he snapped. 

“Uh… it’s yours, sir. Doctor! Doctor Sir,” an intern stuttered.

Vader held back a sigh. “Ignore the call,” he snapped. _No distractions, welcome or not._

“Erm, it’s your son, sir.”

“Well then _pick it up_ , you fool, lest you wish your career ruined!” 

The intern squeaked, quickly answering the phone. 

“Anakin. Edward. Skywalker,” a very angry, very female voice growled. “Boy, do you have some explaining to do!”  
At first, Vader didn't recognise the voice, but when he did… “Sola? What on earth are you doing with my son?!”

“Oh, you mean my _nephew_?” Sarcasm laced her tone. 

“Wait, _nephew_!” Luke exclaimed in the background. 

“Hush, Luke,” Vader sighed. “This does not concern you.”

“Uh, clearly it does!”

“You hid him from his entire family!” Sola viciously scolded the neurosurgeon, ignoring Luke. “how could you not tell us that Padme’s child was with you the entire time? I'm assuming you have his sister, too?”

“ _Sister?_ ” Luke and Vader squawked in unison. 

“Oh, please. Don't tell me you don't know about Leia?”

“Leia?” Luke whispered faintly. “As in… Organa?”

Sola snapped her fingers. “So _that’s_ who adopted her. Damnit, we _asked_ Bail if he knew what had happened to you two!”

“Oh shit,” Luke mumbled, recalling the time Leia had kissed him in intern year in order to make a point to Han. “Oh _shit_.”

“Sola,” Vader growled, clenching his surgical tools tightly. “Now is _not_ the time to have this conversation. I'm in the middle of a surgery!”

“Oh, the Newport boy?” Luke asked eagerly, all thoughts of incest fleeing his mind. “How's it going? I remember you had some concerns about inflammation?”

“It was proceeding very well, until I was _interrupted_ and my personal life was not only upended, but put on speaker phone for the entire O.R. staff to hear.”

Luke winced. “Oof.” 

“Indeed. Now, Sola, if you don't mind, I need to finish my surgery and find my daughter. Young one, do not allow your aunt to poison your mind too much. If you’ll excuse me…” 

He motioned for an intern to hang up the phone. Once the call was over, he sighed and shook his head. “Not only was the knowledge of _another_ child hidden from me,” he growled to himself, “but now I'm being forced to deal with those which no man should suffer; in-laws.”

________

“I still don't understand why I'm here,” Leia sighed. “I was doing a valve transplant.”

“And I was going to dig shrapnel out of my other aunt's heart,” Luke sighed. “Then I heard that we’re twins, and that we were separated at birth. We don't all get what we want.” 

“Twins?” Leia gaped. “Huh. well. Han would be pleased.”

Luke snorted in agreement. “Maybe there was some weight to that twin telepathy theory of his after all.”

“What on earth do you mean, ‘other aunt’?” Vader frowned, his mind caught on Luke’s original statement. “You have no other aunt; Sola was Padme’s only sister.”

“Which is what I was _trying_ to tell you earlier,” Sola sighed to Luke. “See, you would’ve been prepared if you had just _listened_.”

“But I did listen!” he protested. 

“Not well enough.”

“I'm sorry, what’s going on with the shrapnel thing?” Leia asked. “That sounds interesting.”

“Sola’s sister--our aunt--got into a car crash. Before that, she was in a coma for like, twenty five years.”

“Yikes!” Leia winced. “That poor woman. Could you imagine sleeping for a quarter of a century, waking up, and then just nearly dying again?!”

“Twenty five years,” Vader said slowly, a realization dawning upon him. 

“I know,” Luke sighed. “Our poor aunt. She woke up for the first time today, and just… nearly died.”

“Huh,” Leia frowned. “What’s her name?”

“Padme,” Vader whispered, his breath caught in his throat.

“We don't know,” Luke shrugged, oblivious to Vader’s thoughts. “The FBI agent that’s been following her around refuses to tell us anything. We’re just calling her Jane Doe.”

“Huh,” Leia muttered. “Apparently, though, we’re family, right?”

“You have no idea,” Vader gasped, leaning against the wall for support. Ever since Padme died, he felt like he had been falling for so long. Luke gave him _some_ stability, but it was more like Vader was walking on water. Still unreliable, still able to leave him at any moment. But now… 

For the first time in 25 years, he wasn't falling. And the reason for that could leave him at any moment. 

Leia and Luke prattled on to one another about the odds of their ‘aunt’ coming to the Empire, but Vader heard none of it. Instead, he gazed up desperately at Sola. 

Shockingly enough, he found an ounce of pity in her eyes. Under normal circumstances, Vader loathed even the thought of being pitied, but these circumstances were far from normal. 

“Is it Padme?” he asked her desperately, effectively silencing Luke and Leia. The twins-- _twins_ \-- stared at him in confusion. Slowly, in unison, (how had Vader not noticed before, it was right there, _right there_ ) realization passed over their faces. 

“N… no,” Luke laughed, seemingly in denial. “You said she was dead.”

“I thought she was,” Vader ground out. “But it appears that your aunt was not the _only_ one who was lied to.”

“We didn't know you survived, Anakin,” Sola shook her head softly. “After that crash, Padme-- _yes,_ Padme, don't look at me like that Luke--was in a coma for _twenty five and a half years_. You cannot possibly imagine--”

“I am a doctor, Sola. You will find there is little I cannot imagine.”

Sola rolled her eyes at the threatening comment. “I--”

“--lied to me,” Luke finished. “We’ve been with one another for the past three hours, and you’ve been lying to me the entire time.”

Sola’s eyes flashed with sadness. “I’m sorry. I really, truly am, but I was only--”

“--omitting the truth?”

“Trying to spare you from as much hurt as possible,” she sighed. “I didn't know how much he,” she gestured vaguely towards Vader, “told you about your mother. I didn't know if you were aware of your relationship with Leia, of your mother’s status--”

“What status?” Leia asked sharply. 

“I mentioned this, remember?” Luke mumbled. 

“I mean, you said your mother was a queen, but you never said what our mother--oh. _Oh_. Oh shit!”

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Luke asked slyly. 

Leia glared at him. “Now Han can call me princess--”

“--and you won't be able to say that you aren't,” Luke finished gleefully. She groaned, and Luke smiled. “It's true what they say; you can find joy in even the darkest of times.”

“Like when our supposedly dead mother is on the operating table?”

That shut everyone up _real_ quick.

“Who is the surgeon operating?” Vader demanded to know after a moment of silence. “If you allowed Ozzel to operate on my wife, I swear-”

“It’s Piett,” Luke said with a shake of his head. 

Vader nodded. “Very well. O.R. number?”

“Uh, two, I think, but--”

Vader and Leia nodded to themselves, turned on their heels, and sprinted down the hall to the elevators. Luke watched them go, his mouth agape.

“Are they going to harass the surgeon whose hands are on my sisters heart?” Sola inquired, torn between amusement and concern.

Luke sighed. “Would you excuse me for a moment?” And with that, he tore off down the hall after them. He dimly registered a small, ‘Without me?’, from behind him, but continued on. Soon enough, Sola caught up with him. 

When they finally reached the O.R. floor, Luke and Sola burst into the observation room of O.R. 2. Vader was reaching for the intercom, and Leia was pressing against the glass. Luke glanced down at Firmus, who was skillfully (simply, even) running through the surgery with ease. Damn, that man deserves a raise. 

“Piett,” Vader growled, “so help me god, if you make _one_ misstep in this surgery that costs my wife her life, I will have _your_ heart filled with shrapnel.”

Piett blinked up at the group, clearly caught off guard. “D-doctor Vader?”

“Get out of here!” Luke hissed, shoving Vader away. “You'll do us no good by making the man nervous. Piett, you’re doing amazing, sweetie!”

“Ah, is that a meme?” he asked, obviously scared out of his wits.

“Clearly. Look, you’re doing great, we all believe in you, and I’m getting him,” he pointed to Vader, “out of here right now. Just do your job! You’ve got this!” He flashed Piett a thumbs up and unceremoniously yanked Vader out of the room, shooting Piett a smile just before he left. 

Vader began to protest, but was quickly cut off by Luke. “shh!” he demanded, lifting a finger to his mouth in a quieting motion. “You scared the socks off of Piett, and now if he messes up, chances are it's _your_ fault!”

“You _cannot_ \--”

“I can, and I am!” Luke interrupted yet again.

“Your sister is still watching!”

“Leia won't yell at Piett, she worships him too much. Cardio God, remember?”

“I have no clue what on earth that means.”

“I know. Don't worry, I'm sure your ever-aging brain will grasp the concept eventually,” Luke jabbed, a joking smile on his face. 

“And you wonder why I call you ‘young one’... young one.”

Luke smiled at his father, grasping his arm and pulling him into a hug. “Do you think Padme will be alright?” His voice was muffled by the midnight black suit-jacket that covered Vader’s shoulders. 

“Your mother is strong,” the man said hesitantly. “... And she couldn't have asked for a better cardiothoracic surgeon.”

“It sounds painful for you to say that.”

“Well, I suppose there's been some… worry on my part. I've been slightly concerned with your friendship with my assistant. How you called him instead of me, when you needed a consultation.”

“You’re not a Cardio God,” Luke frowned confusedly, pulling himself away from Vader’s chest. “Piett isn't my father.”

“Indeed, young one. Indeed he is not.”

____________

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Luke and Leia discussed their twinship, Vader and Sola had one too many heated arguments over the Luke situation, and Piett vibed away through his surgery. 

When the operation was finally completed, Piett hurried over to them, poorly hidden glee and satisfaction on his face. 

“The surgery was a success,” he smiled widely. “We’re moving her into the ICU; she should wake up in a few hours.”

The family breathed a collective sigh of relief. Leia and Han (who had just arrived to support his girlfriend and his best friend [who was, coincidentally, her twin]) pulled each other into a deep kiss, Luke and Sola hugged one another tightly, and Vader stepped forward as the anxiety bled out of his features. “When will we be able to see her?

“As soon as she’s settled in her room,” Piett nodded assuringly. “Which should be…” his apple watch beeped, and he glanced down on it with a relieved grin on his face “... right now. If you’d follow me?”

And with that, the surgeon led them to Padme Amidala, the Lost Queen of Naboo.

____________

Luke stared at his mother, completely mesmerized. She was pale, her skin pasty from surgery. Her hair was matted from years of laying on a pillow, and she was deathly still. If Luke couldn't hear the comforting beeps of the heart monitor, he would think Padme Amidala was a dead woman. 

But even then, she looked lovely. 

She was small (the twins must’ve gotten their stature from her), and her small nose was slightly red at the tip from the cold air conditioning blowing down on them. She had Luke’s nose… or rather, he had hers. 

Granted, he didn't only gain features from his mother. 

Luke gazed over at his father, who was slumped on the other side of the bed. His grey-peppered honey-colored hair was mussed into disarray as he snored, hunched over the bed. Luke rarely ever saw his father sleep. Truly, he was certain that the man didn't get enough.

This wasn't exactly an oddity. Most surgeons survived on caffeine and sheer stubbornness alone; except for Piett. That man thrived on two kinds of tea; Chai tea and anxie-tea. 

Speaking of Piett… the surgeon was lounged in a chair slightly behind Vader, drooling on his hand. Luke was momentarily tempted to take a picture of the drooling man and send it to Doctor Veers, but pushed away that urge as soon as it came. 

Beside Piett was Leia, who was leaning her sleepy head on the man’s shoulder. She had been interrogating Piett about his experience in cardio--Vader was Luke’s role model, Piett was Leia’s. And when Han was forced out of the room due to the close-family rule, Piett was Leia’s easiest source of amusement.

When Leia dozed off mid-question, dropping her head onto the doctor’s shoulder, Vader had leveled the man with a glare and kindly informed him that if he moved and woke the neurosurgeon’s daughter… well, Pitt did value his heart where it was inside his body. 

So Piett slowly dozed off, leaving only Sola and Luke awake. Sola had been blinking quickly, desperately trying to keep herself awake. When Luke told her to close her eyes, she didn't hesitate. 

So now, it was just him. Well… and the bodyguard stationed outside the door. 

“Hey, SkyBoy,” a familiar face smirked from the doorway. 

Well. Maybe it wasn't JUST him. 

“Zev?” Luke mumbled sleepily. “Howd you get past…” 

“It was easy,” Zev said, wagging his eyebrows. “I'm a very charming person.”  
Luke just laughed. “Really? I've yet to notice that.”

“You'll see soon enough,” Zev sighed. “So… this must be your mom?”

“Oh. you know about that?”

“The whole hospital knows about that, I mean, your dad _did_ kind of proclaim it to the entire O.R.”

Luke sighed with a nod, which was, of course, followed up by a yawn. “It's weird, isn't it?”

“That’s one word for it,” Zev chuckled. “You should sleep.”

“I can't,” Luke said with a shake of his head. “I've been trying for the past hour.”

“Maybe you need a pillow,” he pulled a chair over to the neurosurgeon. “Go to sleep, Luke. I'm serious.”

“I won't be able to.”

“Just close your eyes. It doesn't hurt to try!”

Luke sighed, but twisted around in his seat to lay himself across Zev’s lap. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But you're getting me coffee after this.”

“Gladly. Besides, was that so hard?”

Luke never answered Zev. His eyes closed, and he slowly drifted off to sleep. “You.. suck…” he sighed. 

“I know,” he heard the man chuckle. “I know.”

______________

“She's still not awake?” Luke sighed, staring down at his mother, coffee in hand. 

“It should be any minute now,” Vader said anxiously. He was wringing his hands together in a way Luke had never seen before. 

He wasn't used to seeing Darth Vader anxious. 

Piett was awake now, too, and had busied himself with checking Padme’s vitals. “She's perfectly stable,” he told them. 

Vader, Leia, Luke, and Sola collectively sighed. It had been six hours since Padme had come out of surgery. Needless to say, the family was tense. 

“How much longer, Piett?” Vader asked strenuously. 

“It shouldn't be much, sir,” Piett nodded. “Her heart rate has been slowly picking up speed.”

Luke nodded. Good. That was good.

In the corner of his eye, Luke caught sight of Sola twitching nervously. He couldn't imagine how hard this must be for her; seeing her sister asleep on a bed for a quarter of a century, only to wake up and immediately throw herself back into that situation.

“Why'd she do it?” Luke asked. “Witnesses said she was speeding, her car slid, and she smashed a tanker. But why was she speeding?”

“She had just woken up,” Sola said, her voice rough. “Of course, her first question was, ‘Where’s Anakin?’. Of course, we answered, ‘Dead.’. Then, she asked where her babies were. No one knew. But then, she stole our agent’s phone, and tracked you down, Luke, just by your name. Then, she realized you were working with another girl named Leia, who, coincidentally, was born on the same exact date as you. It wasn't that hard of a conclusion to jump to.”

“She was coming for us,” Leia sighed, guilt stricken. 

Any guilt the twins felt was shoved onto the back burner when Padme’s eyelids fluttered once… twice… three times. And then, finally, her eyes slid open, staring out into the room in front of her. “Sola?” she said. “Anakin? Oh, Anakin… I'm dead, aren't I?”

“No,” Vader choked out, holding back a sob. “No, you most definitely are not.”

She blinked, her brow furrowed. “What happened?”  
‘What do you remember?” Sola asked. 

“I was in a plane crash… I woke up, and felt… much, much older. My muscles didn't work as well, my brain was sluggish… but I found our twins, our babies, and I had to get to them.”

Luke clenched the end of the bed tightly, his knuckles turning white. Again, guilt ripped through him.

“And then… my tire slipped. It was cold out, so cold that the roads were frozen.”

“It’s winter,” Vader told her. “Winter here is far different than it is in Naboo.”

Considering the fact that Naboo is a tropical (giant) island, Luke didn't doubt it.

“Am I alive?” Padme asked again. “The crash…” 

“Nearly killed you,” Piett stepped in, his white coat drawing Padme’s attention to him. “Hello, I'm Doctor Firmus Piett. I was your heart surgeon.”

“Heart surgeon?”

The man simply nodded encouragingly. “Yes. During the crash, you sustained many injuries, many of which were, thankfully, superficial, but there was a large piece of shrapnel that quite nearly punctured your heart. I was able to remove the metal without a problem, and the internal bleeding was worrisome but controllable. Of course, it will take months, maybe years, of physical therapy in order to get your body back to what it was before your coma, but it should be achievable.”

“I'm… going to be alright?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Padme smiled to herself, slowly at first. Then, the wide grin spread over her face. “I'm going to be alright,” she repeated. “Ani, I'm going to be--wait. Luke and Leia, where are they? Do you have them? Wh--”

“That would be us,” Luke said softly, hesitant. He cautiously gazed into his mother’s chocolate brown eyes as she took in him and Leia. For a moment, she seemed as if she didn't believe that they were here, but soon enough, a wide grin spread over her face again as she sobbed a single, relieved cry. 

“Come here, my babies!” she cried, trying to reach out to them with her weakened arms. Luke and Leia rushed over to pull her into a hug, having waited 25 years to do so. 

“Hi, mom,” Leia sobbed.

“It's nice to meet you,” Luke laughed wetly. 

___________

Firmus Piett sighed, slumping into a seat at the bar across the street. The ever faithful friend that he was, Max Veers sat right beside him. 

“Are you sure you're alright?” Max asked. “Truthfully, Firmus, you need a break from Skywalkers.”

“Oh, but now it’s not just the Skywalkers,” Firmus sighed. “Now, it's the _Naberries_.”

Max laughed. “Aren't the Naberries a royal family from Naboo?”

“Exactly,” Piett sighed. “And, apparently, Vader is married to one of them. Vader is, technically, a lord.” 

“Huh,” Max said. “Is it odd that I'm not surprised?”

“Yes,” Firmus glowered, “very. Could you imagine calling him ‘Lord Vader’ or ‘my lord’?”

“Yes, easily.” 

“Well, I suppose it does feel rather… familiar. As if I've said it a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…” 

“Well, Firmus, now we’re just in one of those sci-fi movies that Zev is so fond of. Honestly, though, no variation of ourselves would _ever_ call Vader ‘my lord’. We’re all far too prideful for that.”

“I believe you’re right. It’s just… odd. The idea of calling Vader ‘my lord’ gives me deja vu.”

“Well then, Firmus, perhaps you did say it a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. Who’s to say? Regardless, I believe the best solution is to get roaring drunk and forget the entire debacle.”

“Max, I have work tomorrow.”

“No, you don't. I faked your signature and requested a day off.”

“ _Max_. You didn't!”

“I did, and I enjoyed it. Now let loose, Firmus! Enjoy yourself. Forget this whole… ‘my lord’ idea of yours.”

Firmus sighed, but knew that this was a battle he could not win. “Very well,” he decided, raising a glass to meet Max’s. “To a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEHEHEHEHEHE! As if a plane crash could kill Padme-FRICKING-Amidala. I hope you all enjoyed! Not going to lie, my favorite part to write was the 'Uncle Piett' part. Also, I love the idea of Leia and Piett bonding over being like... chill members of the Skywalker fam. well, Leia makes everyone think she's chill, but really.... lolol
> 
> SO, my plans for the next ones areeeee:
> 
> 1\. Luke rescues Vader, an idea given to me by the lovely @PolinoidJuice . I'm not quite sure if I want Luke to know who Vader is, or if Vader should know that Luke is his son yet  
> 2\. Luke, Vader, and Piett are stranded together after a shuttle-trip gone wrong. Of course, Vader is holding Luke captive the entire time, and Piett is very confused because he doesn't know why Vader is tolerating this pouty child like 'Lord Vader, I Find Your Jedi Son Disturbing'  
> 3\. A NEW IDEA: Luke and Vader are FBI agents, or maybe Vader's in the mob 
> 
> Anywayssssss, comment please, and tell me which you want to read! Or, if you have a request, drop it in the comments and I pinky swear I'll doo my best! Sooooo, comment! If you dont, Luke will die again ;). I'll do it; i swear. But this time it will be Luke, Zev, Foggy, and Padme, so Vader, Veers, Tim, and Leia are just.... dying of angst. And I'll hide how angsty it will be with foreshadowing and my evil ways to make you think everyone lives, but really... hehehehehe. 
> 
> (Me, to Becca, five minutes ago: Hehehehehhehe!! I'm threatening my readers again! 
> 
> Becca: Noice)
> 
> (Also Becca, earlier during the editing phase: You're NOT KILLING PADME! I DRAW THE F*CKING LINE THERE)
> 
> Love you all! Byeeeeee
> 
> (p.s.: be happy!)


	10. The Babysitter Saga: Part 1/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petty Officer Firmus Piett just wanted to get his job done and go home. He never meant to save Darth Vader's son, never meant to get transferred to the SSD _Devastator_ , never meant to be a glorified babysitter for the literal sithspawn otherwise known as Luke Skywalker. But apparently, that's his life now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! SO, I had writers block for a bit, but I’m ✨back✨ And here to torture you with babysitter!Piett and a bit of a cliffhanger. There is another part to this, just so you know!

Petty Officer Firmus Piett was used to seeing strange things.

After all, he lived in a galaxy ruled by magic space wizards. With the influence of ethereal powers and magic laser swords, the galaxy was known to be an odd place. But the sight that had just reached his seyes trumped all of the mystical-magic-bantha-shavit by tenfold. 

Piett has been arresting a trio of pirates on Axxila when Lord Vader (THE Lord Vader, Commander of the Imperial fleet, Heir of Emperor Palpatine, Next In Line For The Throne, you name it, he IS it) stormed onto the pirates ship and made the (at the time) young Officer freeze where he stood. He was flanked by two stormtroopers who stood at parade rest by his side. 

Vader marched up to the criminals and raised a hand. The pirates were lifted into the air by an invisible force. “You will beg for death when I am finished with you,” he snarled. 

Piett gulped. 

Vader lowered his hand, dropping the group to the floor. “Take them to my shuttle,” he ordered the troopers. They immediately complied, snapping binders on the pirates’ wrists and dragging them off their ship. 

Then, Piett was alone with a VERY angry Darth Vader. He gaped for a moment before he pushed his shock aside and snapped to attention. “Lord Vader,” he greeted. “I was just-”

The Sith scowled beneath his mask and turned on his heel to walk towards the cargo hold. 

Piett sputtered and hurried to follow the man’s hulking form across the small, disgusting ship. 

“Report, Petty Officer Piett,” Vader snapped as Piett slowed his gait to match the Sith’s. 

“We heard rumblings in criminal rings that there was a group of slavers running to Axxila for shelter from the Empire,” the officer said smoothly as he walked half a step behind Vader. “There was a description of the ship in the transmission we intercepted, so we searched all incoming carriers matching that description. Because of this we were able to apprehend the suspects before they stepped on the planet.”

When they reached the cargo hold, Piett stepped forward to tap a key on the control panel. Before he could, though, Vader waved a hand and the door slid open by itself. 

Piett blinked in shock, then shook himself out of his stupor. _‘It will do me no good to be frozen in disbelief,’_ he thought. _‘Not when my life and future are on the line.’_

It was true. Vader was rumored to have murdered multiple officers when they proved to be… incompetent. Piett hadn't trusted the numerous reports of Vader’s infamous force choking abilities, but after the scene with the pirates, he wasn't so sure. 

As soon as the duo crossed the threshold, a small, blond haired boy with shining blue eyes jumped to his feet. The child couldn't have been more than three. Again, Piett found himself overwhelmed with disgust for the slavers that had taken him. 

“Fafa!” the child beamed as he ran towards Vader. 

The Lieutenant balked. Was the child insane?! Surely Vader would kill the boy. 

Shockingly, though, Vader just scooped the boy into his arms and held him tightly against his chest. “You frightened me, young one,” he whispered, clearly not for Piett to hear. 

And thus Piett was met with the strangest thing he would ever lay eyes on. Lord Vader clutching a small child like a lifeline while the boy in question hugged him as tightly as possible. 

Well then. Apparently, the reports of numerous officers were incorrect. Lord Vader did, in fact, have a heart. A durasteel heart, perhaps, but a heart nonetheless.

Wait. 

Reports of numerous officers… 

Piett’s eyes widened as he recalled the other rumor that floated through naval barracks regarding the Commander. Magic wasn't the only bit of gossip surrounding Lord Vader; another, more sparsely spread rumor, was that the Sith Lord had a son. 

Of course, the officers who claimed to have seen or interacted with the boy promptly disappeared, never to be seen again… 

Piett made a small, panicked noise in the back of his throat after the realization that he would most like join the slew of disappearing officers hit him. Of course, since he (a man living a relatively non stressful life) had the worst luck in the galaxy, his overwhelming panic brought the boy’s attention to him. 

“Who s’at?” he asked, pointing to Piett. He winced, and nodded to the child. Surely Vader wouldn't execute him in front of his son, would he?

“Introduce yourself,” Vader told the Imperial curtly. 

In no way was this actually happening to him. The entire situation MUST be a dream--no, a nightmare--whirled up by Piett’s nonexistent imagination. 

Regardless, Piett smiled nervously and said to the boy, “My name is Firmus Piett. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

The kid giggled and waved to him. “I'm Luke!”

“Hi, Luke,” Piett said semi-hysterically. “Are you feeling alright? Were you injured at all by the pi--err, people who took you?” 

He cheerfully shook his head, still beaming at Piett. “Nuh-uh. Aw you?”

It took him a moment to fully understand that Luke had meant ‘ _Are you_?’, because of the child’s inability to say the letter ‘R’. When he did, he anxiously glanced at Vader, before darting his eyes away from the cold black mask and into the bright eyes of the child. 

“I'm doing just fine,” he said as he fought desperately to keep his voice level, “but I'm more concerned about you.”

A worried frown marred Luke’s childish features. He poked Vader's shoulder vigorously, jabbing his other finger pointedly in Piett’s direction. “Scawed!” he told his father, distressed. “Scawed, scawed, scared.”

Piett blinked. The child was trying to say that he was scared, but Piett was certain that he had been managing his expressions throughout the conversation (something he had gained much practice with after several tense discussions with his sister) and had also been keeping the anxiety that gripped his heart out of his tone. 

In other words, Luke had no way of knowing that Piett was currently in fear for his life. 

Vader sighed. “The Lieutenant has no need to feel afraid, little one. We shall be leaving his planet now.”

His black cape snapped sharply as he whirled around and stalked out of the cargo hold and off the ship. 

“Buh-bye!” Luke called over the Sith’s shoulder, waving his hand quickly and banging it into Vader’s helmet. Vader just emitted a crackling sound from his vocoder as he walked away. 

Stumped, Piett lifted a hand and waved back at the boy. “Bye,” he said, thoroughly bewildered. 

_______

Later that night, Piett slumped into an armchair in the bunk room. After his brief but terrifying encounter with Lord Vader, he spent the remainder of the day doing his commander’s job for him, along with fulfilling his own duties and tracking down the families of the other children whom the pirates had kidnapped. 

Needless to say, the man was exhausted. 

_‘On the bright side,’_ he thought to himself, _‘I don't believe I'll ever have a day of work that’s quite as stressful as that.’_

He poured himself a glass of cheap Corellian Brandy, downing it in one gulp. Piett couldn't imagine working under Vader’s command. He had to applaud the officers that could; but he was sure that he would buckle under the sheer amount of stress and anxiety Vader’s mere presence caused him. 

The idea of working on even the same Star Destroyer at the Sith made Piett queasy. Maybe, though, that was the bitter brandy he had just forced down his throat was at fault for his sudden nausea. 

He shivered, overcome with the feeling that SOMETHING was about to happen. It was a good feeling, yet unfamiliar. 

Piett shook his head, and shucked off his boots, preparing to retire for the evening. He needed at least six hours of sleep per night if he wanted to do his job well. There would be parols in the early morning, around 0500 hours. As it was already 2400, he couldn't afford to lose any more sleep than what he already did. 

As customary, Piett checked his comm once before he went to bed. Every night, he checked to make sure that he hadn't missed any transmissions throughout the course of the day. With the events of the past 24 hours, it was more than likely that he had missed a call. 

Sure enough, there was a message from his Admiral’s comm. Frowning, Piett clicked the holoprojector on his wrist comm, and a transcript popped up over his arm. 

He quickly read through the message, and then read it again… and again. After he read it five times, Piett groaned, and dropped back onto his bed. He shoved his feet back into his boots, changed back into his uniform, and shuffled to Admiral’s quarters of the small Imperial outpost, as was commanded in the transcript. 

When he arrived, he was greeted by the sight of Vader and Admiral Corell staring at him. 

His posture, already ramrod straight, became more composed as he nodded to the men. “Lord Vader. Admiral. What can I do for you?”

He was 99% certain that he was about to die. Vader didn't want to kill him in front of a child, so he decided to do so in front of his commanding officer. Oddly, Piett was calm when confronted with the inevitable. It was unpleasant, certainly, but hopefully Vader would snap his neck and be done with it. That wasn't a terrible way to die. It was certainly better that being brutally slaughtered in front of a child.

“Petty Officer Piett,” his Admiral smiled. “Come, have a seat. This is a joyous occasion!”

Vader scowled at the Admiral. “There is no need to celebrate this, Admiral. Simply inform your officer of the transfer and move on.”

And with that, the Sith swept out of the room. Piett watched him go confusedly. So maybe he wouldn't die today… huh. 

“Come, Petty Officer!” Admiral Corell beckoned, waving Piett over to the couch in his spacious living quarters. 

“I… I don't understand. I thought he was going to--”

“To what?”

“Ah… nothing, sir,” he said sheepishly as he walked over to the sofa. “What did you say we were celebrating? And what was Lord Vader saying about a transfer?”

The Admiral brightened. Normally he never spoke to Piett other than handing down orders or snapping about the various incompetencies of his fellow officers, so his kind behavior was cause for concern. Piett was sure that the Admiral was not being at all genuine, so he kept his guard up and prepared for the worst.

“Lord Vader just requested to have you transferred to the _Devastator_. Of course, there are still papers that need to be processed, but I believe you will leave on his personal Star Destroyer tomorrow!”

Piett froze. Well. He was not prepared for _this_. If he wasn't dead before, he certainly would be soon. 

“The _Devastator_ ,” he asked, shaken. Well, now the Admiral’s optimism was understandable; his Lieutenant garnering a position on Vader’s personal Star Destroyer was certain to reflect well upon Corell’s leadership. 

“Yes!” Corell said. “You’ll leave in the morning; be prepared, because Lord Vader expects the best from you.” A dim threat was hidden underneath his words; _don't ruin my reputation by being an utter failure_. 

Piett nodded, standing up from the sofa. “I'll go pack my bags,” he said stiffly. 

“Ah,” the Admiral winced. “You must be nervous about Vader’s… murderous tendencies.”

Piett glared at him. “ _You think?!_ ”.

“Not to worry, Petty Officer. Lord Vader seemed quite content with your abilities. He saw how you handled the slaver case this afternoon, and researched some of your prior escapades. He requested you because he believed in his skill; you should not let him down.”

Piett sighed. The Admiral’s monologue hadn't eased his anxiety. If anything, the ‘ _you should not let him down_ ’ just caused it to spike. 

“Sir,” he nodded respectfully (always respectfully, even when his Admiral was a corrupt slug) before turning to walk out the door. 

After all, he had bags to pack. 

________

Two months had passed since that fateful day. Now, Piett was an Ensign on Vader’s flagship. He hardly saw the Sith, unless he was passed by him in the corridors or glimpsed him on the bridge. 

He had been working with data, intercepting codes from rebel officers, when a familiar faced child ran up to him and hugged his legs. 

“Hi,” Vader’s son said, his voice muffled by the scratchy material of Piett’s uniform. 

Piett gaped at him, thankful that he was alone in the officer’s lounge. “W-what are you doing here?” he sputtered and glanced up, searching for the Sith whom the boy was normally accompanied by.

“Woom’s awe bowing,” the kid shrugged. “I wanted to find you.”

“Your rooms are… boring?” He didn't doubt that Vader spoiled the child rotten; how could he not, with the face Luke had? 

“Yes. Found you!”

“Yes, but how?”

“Fowce,” Luke shrugged, reaching up to Piett. “Up! Up!”

Piett glanced around and scooped the child into his arms. “Where exactly is your father?” he asked nervously. He didn't fancy the idea of Vader storming into the lounge and annihilating Piett for laying his hands on his son. 

“Wowking,” Luke sighed, dropping his head onto Piett’s shoulder. 

“Of course,” Piett sighed. Lord Vader was most likely on the bridge, and he didn't believe that the behemoth Sith would appreciate him bringing Luke across the entire ship to reach the bridge. Sighing, he fished around in his pocket for his comm, using the arm that wasn’t holding Luke. “I'm going to call your father, and then we can find something for you to do so you don't have to deal with that pesky boredom any longer.”

“Otay!” he smiled, his baby teeth gleaming in the light. 

Piett tapped a button on his comm, calling the bridge. “I need to speak to Lord Vader immediately,” he said curtly as soon as a communications officer picked up the comm. 

“Sir, we can’t just--”

“ _Immediately._ What is your rank, my good man?”

“Petty Officer…” 

“Excellent. In that case, I outrank you, and you _will_ follow my orders. Now, patch me through to Lord Vader or I will bring it to your superiors notice that you’ve been acting incompetent--”

“I'll patch you through right now!” the man exclaimed hurriedly. 

Piett relaxed minutely. “Perfect.”

The comm was on hold for a moment until Vader’s baritone voice filled the air. “What exactly is the point of this, Ensign?”

Piett winced at Vader’s angry tone. “My lord,” he said, “your son somehow… left his room, and is currently with me in the Officer’s Lounge. How would you like me to proceed?”

Vader’s vocoder spit out a sharp crackle. “He left his quarters?” 

If Piett didn't know better, he would say that Vader was exasperated.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Bring him back to my private quarters. His nanny-droid should have been caring for him, but this would not be the first time BS-19 has proved to be incompetent. Watch over him until I finish my duties on the Bridge.”

Piett winced. He was afraid of that. “Yes, my lord.”

“Do not fail me, Ensign. I will be most unpleased if you do.”

The Ensign gulped nervously. “Yes, my lord.”

The comm abruptly cut off, and Piett sighed. Luke giggled, and said, “You'we silly.”

Piett glanced at him, exhausted. “And _you_ are a trouble maker. Why on earth would you leave your rooms?”

“I was bowed,” Luke shrugged. 

Piett nodded solemnly. “Of course you were. Come along now; do you want to walk back to your father’s quarters or do you wish for me to carry you?”

Luke hugged his arms tighter around the man. “’Tay with you.”

“Apparently, you’ll be doing that either way.”

The boy giggled, wiggling out of Piett’s arms. “C’mon!”

He stumbled towards the door of the Lounge, his short legs bumping into one another clumsily. Piett sighed. It was going to be a long day.

______

‘Long day,’ was the understatement of the sleep cycle. Lord Vader had taken longer than usual to carry out his numerous duties and several officer’s above Piett had made life difficult for the Sith, which, unsurprisingly, led to their imminent and immediate demise. 

Because of this, Piett had been forced to spend 5 hours and 37 minutes with the literal sithspawn that was Luke Skywalker. 

The boy had wanted to play tag, which was fine at first, but, of course, led to Piett running through Lord Vader’s quarters for two and a half hours, constantly worried that Vader would walk in on him being chased by an infant. 

He was certain that Luke had somehow gotten his hands on massive amounts of caf, because the hours of tag didn't tire the child out. Instead, it invigorated him further; he attempted to escape his quarters again, and Piett barely managed to foil his plan in time. 

The child was a literal sithspawn. 

The only thing that made the circumstances worse was how unbearably kind the child was acting about the situation. 

He smiled at Piett with his ocean blue ewok-cub (aka, puppy dog) eyes, and Piett felt his heart melt. How could such a terrifying man such as Lord Vader create a child that, while mischievous, was practically the physical embodiment of happiness and light?

Well, he knew _how_ , of course, and--nope. Piett did not want to think about Lord Vader doing… _that_ with anyone, nope nope nope. Really, it was probably best for his own mental health that he didn't question it.

Finally, the boy crashed, cuddling into Piett’s arms as the Ensign settled him on a couch next to Vader’s hyperbaric chamber. 

“’Tay,” Luke mumbled, clutching at Piett’s clothes. The Imperial sighed inwardly, and shifted his weight to sit on the couch beside Luke. The child curled up around him, holding onto him tightly. 

“Go to sleep,” Piett said gently. “I'll be here when you wake up.”

Luke dozed off, drooling on Piett’s uniform. 

Piett groaned, adding ‘ _Dry clean my uniform_ ’ to the list of work to make up for after his… escapade with Luke. 

He stayed with the boy for five minutes, until the door to Vader’s chambers opened and the Sith barged into the room. His mechanical breathing sounds filled the air as he took in Piett’s frazzled appearance. 

Ensign Piett winced. His cap had fallen on the floor ages ago, exposing his thinning hair for the galaxy to see. His uniform was wrinkled and had drool on the shoulder where Luke placed his head. 

“Lord Vader,” he greeted, attempting to stand. 

Luke's arms tightened around him. “No,” he mumbled in his sleep. 

Piett winced. This child would be the death of him--literally.

Vader’s vocoder made a crackling sound yet again, and Piett jumped in fear. “Ah, my apologies, my lord,” he said worriedly. 

Vader waved a dismissive hand at the man, his gaze falling on his son. “It is nothing, Lieutenant. You are free to leave. I will take Luke to his bedroom.”

Piett nodded, his shoulders tense. Slowly, he slipped off the couch, hoping that Luke wouldn't notice. 

The boy protested, but Vader slowly pulled him into his arms. “Hush, my son. It is me.”

“Fafa?” he mumbled. 

“Yes,” Vader sighed. “You had me worried today, little one.”

Luke snuggled into the Sith’s durasteel arms. “Sowwy.” 

“It is quite alright. I do believe that you were dismissed, Lieutenant Piett?”

Piett was startled. “Ah, yes my lord. My apologies, again, for this.”

It wasn't until he was halfway down the corridor that he realized Vader had called him Lieutenant, not Ensign. 

Sure enough, he was promoted the next day. 

__TWO__YEARS__LATER__

Piett groaned, tilting his head from side to side to crack the stiff bones in his neck. He hadn't slept well the past three nights, most likely as a result of Luke’s most recent escapades. The child, who had just turned five, was even more of a trouble maker than he had been two years ago. His destructive tendencies had become a well-honed skill and more often than not, Piett was the one who had to clean up the trail of detritus the boy left in his wake. 

Piett had _not_ joined the navy to be a glorified babysitter. And yet, somehow, that was one of his numerous duties when he wasn't on the bridge. 

Lord Vader seemed to trust him with his son (the fact that the second in command of the Empire trusted him with _anything_ was still hard to stomach) and Piett had found himself starting to care about the little boy, so whenever Luke got himself into a… precarious situation, such as being stuck on top of a tie fighter, or falling into a trash compactor, Piett found himself under immeasurable amounts of stress. 

Years ago, he needed at least 6 hours of sleep a night in order to survive. Now, he needed 6 hours every couple days, if that. When he didn't get enough sleep, he could live off of 80 cups of caf and the constant fear of his execution.

Yes, his position on the _Devastator_ was certainly life changing. 

Piett’s eyes drifted back to the datapad in his hands. He was supposed to be interpreting a coded message that was intercepted from rebel High Command, but his brain refused to focus. 

After five minutes of staring blankly at the datapad, he was saved by a chirp from his comm. 

He blinked and answered the call. “Lieutenant Firmus Piett; how can I help you?”

“Piett,” a well-known voice growled at him through the comm. “Bridge. _Now._ ”

The transmission cut off, and Piett groaned again. Luke must’ve gotten out of his quarters again. His droid nanny was _truly_ incompetent. If he didn't know better, he’d say that Luke had given her a Luke Look™ and gotten her to do his bidding. 

He slid out of the chair at the data station and walked out the door, feeling the other officer’s eyes on him as he left. 

When Piett reached the bridge he was greeted with utter lunacy. The officers were quaking in their boots, Lord Vader was slumped into what Piett knew to be an exasperated position, and Luke, who had _definitely_ escaped his quarters, was sitting on Lord Vader’s shoulders, attempting to command the ship. 

“You!” the boy said, pointing to Vader’s newest Admiral. “Dance!”

The Admiral looked panicked, glancing from Vader to Luke. 

“Do what he says,” Vader told him tiredly. “It'll be over sooner.”

“Erm, my lord,” Piett said. 

Vader turned to see him. “Ah. Lieutenant Piett. If you could take my son back to his rooms before he causes more chaos, it would be _much_ appreciated.”

Though his words were pleasant, the Sith’s tone was dangerously low and threatening. 

“Of course, Lord Vader,” Piett nodded calmly. By now, these circumstances had occurred many times before and were, unfortunately, painfully familiar. 

Piett walked forward and the Sith pulled Luke down from his shoulders. “Young one, you must follow the Lieutenant back to your quarters,” he told his son gently. 

Luke pouted, tears filling his eyes. “But I wanna stay with you!”

“I know, little one. But I will be back in an hour, provided the Admiral does his job correctly.”

The Admiral swallowed nervously, and the rest of the officers avoided his eyes. Lieutenant Piett frowned at him in sympathy. He knew VERY WELL what it was like to worry for your life under the command of the hulking figure that was crouched beside Luke. 

Speaking of Luke, he glanced back up to Piett, who smiled at him and offered him a hand. “Come on,” he said gently. “Lord Vader will be finished here soon. You can play in the meantime.”

Luke pouted, looking back at Vader. For a moment, the Sith looked as if he would cave to Luke’s wishes, but Piett stepped in before he could. 

“If you wish, Lord Vader, I can take him to the hangar and he can explore the ships.”

Vader nodded, and Luke turned his gaze excitedly to Piett. “Really, Piett?” he exclaimed, grabbing his hand. 

“If it’s alright with Lord Vader, yes.”

Luke turned back to his father with a bright smile on his face. 

“Very well, Lieutenant,” Vader said. “ _Do not misplace him_.”

Piett winced, recalling the one and only time he had lost the child. The only thing that saved him from Vader’s wrath was Luke, who ran up to the two in the middle of the ship and grabbed Piett and Vader’s hands, dragging them to the hangar to see the paint he had used to cover a TIE Fighter in doodles and drawings. “That's you, Father,” he had said, pointing to a stick figure with a black helmet, “that’s Piett,” he pointed to a green stick figure with an officer’s hat and bags under his dot-eyes, “and that's me!” Luke depicted himself in bright blue paint with yellow hair. Piett’s heart had melted a little, and apparently so did Vader’s because somehow Piett escaped the debacle alive and breathing.

He was determined not to lose Luke ever again. Because of this, he was hyper alert as they walked down to the hangar. When they arrived, Luke pulled him over to one of the TIE pilot’s who was hopping out of his Fighter. 

“Hi!” Luke said, waving at him. The pilot leaned up against his TIE Fighter and raised an eyebrow. 

“Hey, kid,” the man said. “What's your name? And just how did you get onto the flagship of the Imperial navy?”

“I'm Luke Skywalker! My father runs the ship!”

The pilot gaped at him. On the _Devastator_ , it was common knowledge that Vader had a son. If word of this reached outside the ship, of course, the officer responsible for the gossip would be… taken care of, but on the SSD _Devastator_ everyone knew about Luke. You try keeping a mischievous escape artist a secret on a giant Star Destroyer and see where that gets you. 

“You must be Vader’s little runt,” the pilot said fondly as he got over his momentary shock. “You’re father’s a good man; I’m his Black 2, his Lieutenant.”

“You fly together?” Luke said, bouncing up and down on his toes in excitement. 

“Yeah, little man,” the pilot said, ruffling Luke’s hair. “He’s the best damn—err, darn pilot in the galaxy.”

“I’m gonna be just as good,” Luke nodded to himself with confidence. 

The pilot chuckled again with a nod. “Whatever you say, squirt.”

He tugged on the sleeve of Piett’s uniform and pulled him down to whisper in his ear. “Ask if I can see inside the ship!” 

Piett smiled and straightened his back to look back at the man. “Luke would like to know if he could have a look inside your ship.”

The pilot smiled regretfully with a shake of his head. “Sorry, squirt,” he said, “no can-do. She’s gotta go to maintenance now, and I've got simulations to run in the meantime.”

Luke pouted while Piett nodded in understanding. “Another time, maybe,” he said, tapping Luke on the shoulder. 

Luke looked over to the pilot hopefully. “Sure, kid,” the pilot shrugged. “Another time.”

_________

Two weeks later, Luke dragged Piett down to the hangar, searching for the pilot. “Where’s Black 2?” he asked a maintenance worker excitedly. 

The worker winced. “He won't be around for a while, sir. Well, not ever, that is.”

Luke frowned. “Why not?”

The man scratched the back of his neck, looking to Piett for guidance. The Lieutenant shook his head in confusion, and the worker sighed. 

“His TIE got shot in a dogfight with some idiots calling themselves the ‘Rebel Alliance.’”

“So he's in the hospital? Piett, we should visit him!”

Piett’s heart dropped out of his chest. He had heard about that dogfight; Death Squadron was running drills when a trio of X-Wings attacked them out of nowhere. A new organization, the Rebel Alliance, had taken responsibility for it. 

Four Imperial pilots had died. Apparently, Black 2 was one of them.

“Uh, Luke… Black 2 is… away,” Piett said lamely. “He most likely went home to his family, and, uh… isn't coming back for a while.”

Luke frowned. “But we were gonna look inside his TIE Fighter! He was really nice, Piett. Why did he have to go?”

“I don't know,” Piett said whole heartedly. “I don't know.”

________

That evening, Lord Vader called Piett to his chambers after Luke had fallen asleep. “I understand that Luke was shielded from the fate of Black 2 today, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, my lord,” Piett replied. “I believed that if you wished to inform Luke of… the truth of Black 2’s untimely death, you would do so yourself.”

He spoke quick and efficiently, not stopping to mince his words or soften the blow. Piett had inferred long ago that Vader did not appreciate it when people hid behind half-truths or sugar-coated speeches. It kept his head on his shoulders when he spoke frankly, and little did he know, it made Vader respect him even more.

“Once again, your suspicions were correct, Lieutenant,” Vader praised. “It was wise of you not to inform my son of Black 2’s untimely demise.”

Piett nodded. “Is there something else you needed from me, my lord?” Vader would not take the time to call him down to his quarters just to show his approval. 

“Indeed,” Vader nodded. “It has come to my attention that Luke needs…” 

“Friends?” 

“Yes. _Friends_.” The disgust was clear in Vader’s tone. “If you happen to know of any competent officers with… tolerable children, do send them my way.”

Piett was shaken. He thought he had been through too much with Vader and Luke to be shaken by anything anymore, but he was… shaken. 

“You want me to play matchmaker for Luke?” he gaped. 

“I would not use such vocabulary, Lieutenant, but yes.”

“Ah. Well, I’ll begin searching right away, my lord.”

Vader’s hyperbaric chamber dropped shut, and Piett turned sharply on his heel to march out the door. 

By next week, Zevulon Veers and Luke Skywalker were racing through the halls of the _Devastator,_ an unstoppable force that would not be tamed. 

__FIVE__YEARS__LATER__

“Hey, Piett,” Luke sighed as he slumped into a chair beside the newly-promoted Lieutenant-Commander in the Officer’s Lounge. As it was the middle of the night, the boy was supposed to be asleep. Then again, his refusal to rest wasn't unnatural; he had been doing that for the past three years. Piett was used to herding the sleepy sithspawn back to his quarters before retiring to his own; it was the other officer’s reactions to Luke’s presence that were worrying. Thankfully, as it was the only 0100 hours, there were little to no people in the usually crowded Lounge for Luke to terrify. 

“No slouching,” Piett gently reminded the ten year old. The boy straightened, but his shoulders still seemed to droop as if he was holding the weight of the galaxy on his back. 

“Of course,” he said jokingly, his lips turning up into a sad smile. 

“What's wrong?” Piett asked warily. 

Whenever he asked Luke what was wrong, Luke normally spewed out a long, dreadful speech about how he wished he could get off the Star Destroyer. Of course, since Vader hardly allowed Luke to get close with the other officers (the Piett-Luke friendship was a bit of a fluke) Luke had one true friend, and that was Zevulon. Since Piett was the awkward uncle figure who worked for his father, Luke had hesitated to talk to him about more personal things, believing that it would go right back to his father. 

Piett wasn't sure if he was thankful or resentful of that.

“Uh… well, you know how Zev and his dad just went back to Denon?” Luke muttered, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. 

“Yes…” 

“That was ‘cause Zev’s mama died.” 

He froze. That was _not_ what he was expecting Luke to say. “What?” 

“Zev told me right before he left,” Luke said. “I just can't believe she's gone.”

Piett couldn't believe it either. 

Zevulon had been homesick since the minute he stepped onto the Star Destroyer five years ago. Every day, he called his mother, who was still residing on Denon with Zev’s two younger sisters. Luke had sat in on many of these holocalls with a smile on his face. Piett and Luke had actually met the woman a year ago when Zev and Max took Luke to visit Denon (Vader had, of course, been worried for Luke to leave and had insisted on Piett going with him).

Eliana Veers was the kindest soul you would ever meet. She never seemed to think of herself before others, and had been, in a way, a mother to Luke and a sister to Piett. 

The fact that someone as good as her could be gone was terrifying. 

“How did it happen?” Piett asked. 

“Some rare biological disease,” Luke sighed. He sounded _much_ older than he actually was. “They’re waiting for the M.E. to tell them what it was exactly, but she was sick beforehand with something that no one could dee--no, dig, uh-- _diagnose_.” He stumbled over the relatively new word, but struggled through in the end.

“Oh god,” he whispered.

“I know. What are Maxie and Zev gonna do? What are _we_ gonna do?”

The Captain was silent for a moment, before he turned to Luke and said decisively, “We’re going to help them in any way we can.”

“Zev said she died in Ellie’s arms,” Luke mumbled, staring at his hands.

Ellie Veers was Zev’s younger sister, and was practically a clone of Eliana. She was a sweet, sassy six year old that had made Piett laugh his socks off the last time he had seen her. 

But with her mother’s looks and personality, it would be more than a little painful for Zev and Max to speak with her. 

Piett was silent. He didn't know what to say. For years, he and Lord Vader had shielded Luke from the deaths of Imperial officers (whether they were killed by the violent Rebel Alliance or the Dark Lord of the Sith himself), and now, all their hard work was deemed pointless. It was worse, in a way, for Luke to have to deal with the reality of death when it was someone he knew. 

“Will that happen to Father?” Luke asked shakily. “Or to you?”

Piett stared at the boy, trying desperately to figure out what to tell him. “I don't… I… I'm not leaving,” he settled on. “And neither is your father.”

“What if it's not your choice?” he cried. “It wasn't Eliana’s and she… she…” 

Luke burst into sobs, and Piett pulled him into a hug. “We aren't leaving, Luke,” he said. “You don't have to worry.”

In the back of his mind, Piett reminded himself that this wasn't what he signed up for when he joined the navy. He also reminded himself that he didn't really care. It may be unorthodox, but Luke Skywalker is his kriffing family, and anyone who claims otherwise is spewing a load of bantha shavit. 

“I can take it from here, Lieutenant-Commander,” Vader said from behind him. Luke slid away from Piett and shuffled over to his father, who guided him out of the lounge. Piett watched them go, stunned. 

Slowly, he turned to the bartender who was gaping at him. Clearly the man had seen the whole scene. 

“I don't need to tell you not to repeat this to anyone, do I?” Piett said stiffly.

“Uh, n-no. No sir,” he stuttered. 

“Good,” the Lieutenant-Commander sighed. “In that case, get me a whiskey on the rocks.”

The next morning, Piett woke to a hangover and a tear stained pillow. 

__FOUR__YEARS__LATER__

“Piett,” Luke smiled as he burst onto the bridge running over to Piett. “I've got good news!”

“I'm working, Luke,” Piett reminded him from his place in the lower pit of the bridge.

Luke jumped down beside him and successfully scared the now-Commander out of his skin. “This is important!”

“How many times have I told you; just because you _can_ petrify the nine hells out of me with your jumping-Jabori-bean abilities doesn't mean that you should.”

“I'm leaving, Piett! I'm finally getting out of here.” 

Piett stopped his work immediately. “What?” 

“Father doesn't like it, but Veers is sending Zev to COMPNOR. He said we can go together!”

Piett held back a wince. Luke wouldn't survive one day in COMPNOR’s Sub-Adult Group. Most likely, Zevulon wouldn't either, though he was more likely to thrive than Luke. COMPNOR, or the Commission for the Preservation of the New Order, was infamously cruel and demanding of the young adults it recruited. 

Needless to say, Piett was worried. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Duh,” Luke replied with an eyeroll. “I've lived on this hunk of metal for the past 14 years of my life. I'm more than ready to see the world outside of it!” 

“Of course, but maybe this isn't the best decision for you. Have you truly thought this over?”

“Piett. I'm getting out of this place! What more is there to think about?”

“A lot,” Piett pushed on, standing up from his desk. He was aware of the officers around him turning to stare at the two, but in the moment he didn't particularly care. Zevulon had already been through a lot in his life. He could, most likely, take the stress that COMPNOR was sure to put on him. Luke could not. “Have you considered what life away from this ship will truly be like? It won't be easy.”

“I can handle it,” Luke persisted, his gaze slowly hardening. “I know you worry, Piett, but you don't need to. I'll be fine. I'll be better than ever!”

“COMPNOR is stressful, Luke. What if you can't take it?”

“Then I'll join the Rebellion.”

Piett gaped at Luke, who simply stared at him in confusion. “Luke!”

“I was being sarcastic, Piett!”

“The idea of you joining the _Rebellion_ is no laughing matter!”

“I wouldn't,” Luke scoffed. “Rebels have killed tons of the people I know! You and Father try to hide that, but you can't. I know what happened to Black 2, and so many other Imperial’s who… mysteriously left the ship after rebels attacked us. If you think I would join those murderers, you’re wrong!”

It wasn't until after the words left his mouth that Luke realized he had been screaming. 

The bridge was silent around them. Luke was glaring at Piett, who was looking back at him with a twinge of guilt in his eyes. The officers on the bride, even Vader’s newest Admiral, were shocked into silence with Luke’s loud declaration. 

Finally, Piett broke the tense silence. “I know that.”

Luke deflated as his shoulders slumped and he stared down at the ground. “I know,” he mumbled. 

“Posture,” Piett chided him gently. Relaxing at the familiar reminder, Luke pushed his shoulders back, stood up straight, and slightly jutted his chin up. 

“I'll be careful,” he told Piett. “If I can't handle it, I'll come back home.”

Piett sighed. “Lord Vader believes you can cope. He knows you better than anyone.”

Luke flinch told Piett that he really, truly, didn't.

_______

“Piett,” Vader snapped, walking briskly past the man in the hall. “My office. Now.” 

Piett swallowed nervously, his coworkers wincing in sympathy. Piett had very clearly, and very loudly, disagreed with Vader's son on the bridge that morning. While the Sith himself had not been present, there was no doubt in Piett’s mind that he had heard about the confrontation, if not from Luke himself, then from one of the Core-World bastards who didn't fight tooth and nail for their positions, and loathed the fact that Piett did. 

Either way, Vader had surely heard about the conversation. Piett was royally screwed. He walked to Vader’s office with all the dignity he could muster, certain he was walking to his doom. 

“My lord,” he nodded when he finally arrived, the door sliding shut behind him. 

“Commander,” Vader said with a nod. “I heard that you and my son had an… unfortunate confrontation today on the bridge.”

“Yes, my lord,” Piett nodded, anxiety swelling up inside him. 

Vader let out a crackle from his vocoder, which Piett knew from years of working with Vader to be a sigh. “You should not have discussed the matter in such a public location.”

If Piett had an engine running him like a robot, it would have stalled. “I'm sorry?”

“While I do not appreciate your _method_ of showing my son your distaste for his enrollment in COMPNOR, your distaste was very much what I needed from you.”

“I… I'm afraid I don't understand…” 

If Vader was annoyed by Piett’s statement he didn't show it. “I could not express my disdain for Luke’s choices on my own, Commander. Our relations have been tense as of late, much due to the fact that my son yearns for independence. I had hoped that your opinion would sway him to see our side of things; COMPNOR could be detrimental to Luke’s health.”

“I'm sorry… you wanted me to tell Luke no… _for_ you?” Piett stared wide eyed at Vader like a Krugga deer in the headlights. 

“I would not phrase it so crudely, Commander, but yes.”

“So then you haven't brought me here to kill me?”

Vader’s vocoder crackled again, and he replied sarcastically, “No, Commander, I have not brought you here to kill you.”

 _But have you, though_? Piett wanted to ask, but held himself back. “I see,” he replied instead, though he really, really didn't. “Then what is it you ask of me, my lord?”

“I need someone to convince Luke not to leave the _Devastator_. Someone who is not myself.”

“And you would like me to do so?”

“Do you believe it can be done?”

Piett was silent as he contemplated the question. “I cannot say, my lord. Luke is very determined. Once he sets his mind to something, there is very little you or I can do to stop him from achieving his goal.”

“He's much like his mother in that regard,” Vader said quietly. Piett was overwhelmed with the feeling that he was not meant to hear that. 

“I will do my best, my lord,” he nodded. 

“Indeed you will, Commander. Dismissed.”

Piett bowed once, turned on his heel, and hurried out of the room. He had a sithspawn to find.

________

“I figured you’d find me here,” Luke said from his place underneath the belly of a TIE fighter. 

“I figured you'd be here,” Piett replied. “You always are.”

“When I'm not with you, Zev, or my father.” 

He winced at the contempt in the boys tone. “I know you dislike it here, Luke, but-”

“Dislike it?” he rolled out from under the TIE fighter, engine grease rubbed across his face. “I hate it. I haven't been off this ship in _three years_. Not since we went to visit Ellie on Denon with Zev and Veers. I'm pale as hell because I never see the sun, and you can't get sufficient amounts of Vitamin D from watching stars pass in hyperspace.”

“Language.” 

“Basic,” Luke snidely replied. “After all, I've never been on any planet where I've had to learn anything _other_ than Basic!”

“Luke, we’re only--”

“--trying to look out for me. I know. You’ve told me that a million times, Piett!”

The Commander sighed, holding out his hand for Luke to grab. After a moment, the blue eyed boy grabbed his hand and heaved himself up to his feet. Piett eyed the engine grease Luke had smeared onto his skin with distaste. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiping away the grease. “We really are trying to help, you know.”

“I know,” Luke sighed. “But that doesn't change the fact that I'm going.”

Piett stared at him, Luke’s eyes pleadingly boring into his soul. “I know.”

________

Three weeks later, Luke Skywalker and Zevulon Veers left the SSD _Devastator_ , heading to the COMPNOR office on Denon. 

The duo would never step foot on the ship again. 

__TWO__YEARS__LATER__

“Piett, Veers,” Vader barked as he stormed onto the bridge of the _Devastator_ , beckoning the two officers to follow him. “With me.”

Piett and Veers glanced at one another confusedly, following the Sith off of the bridge and to his quarters. When they arrived, Vader spun to them, a warning finger waving in the air. “It has come to my attention,” he snarled, a frantic undertone in his voice, “that the COMPNOR battalion that housed Luke and Zevulon has been compromised.”

Veers frowned. _What in the galaxy are you going on about?_ his expression screamed. 

Vader turned his helmet to glare at the man. “You project your thoughts, General.”

Veers winced. “I simply did not understand you, my lord. Zevulon and I exchanged several messages just this morning. Their unit seems to be perfectly fine.”

“It was,” the Sith growled, “until three hours ago. Rebel forces attacked the battalion, kidnapping nearly half of the Imperial trainees stationed on Denon.”

Veers blinked once, twice, and then three times, before shaking his head in denial. “Are you certain you weren't misinformed, my lord?”

“Are you questioning your superior officer, General?

“No, my lord. Simply ensuring that you are correct. Luke and Zevulon… they cannot be in danger. They simply can't be!”

Piett slowly exhaled, dread overwhelming his senses. “And if they are?”

The General glanced over to him, as if he was betrayed by the fact that Piett didn't agree with him. “Zevulon has to be alright. He has to be.” Veers looked back at Vader, who simply stayed silent. “He has to be, they have to be …” 

“They are not,” Vader said, his tone oddly blank. “Luke and Zevulon are among the many missing.”

Veers exhaled, slowly sinking down to the floor. “He has to be, he has to be…” 

Piett stared at his friend for a moment, before grabbing him by the arms and pulling him to his feet. “If you’ll excuse us, my lord,” he said, desperate to keep his words calm. His voice broke regardless. 

“Leave me,” Vader allowed. He looked at Veers once in sympathy, before turning away from the duo and staring out a viewport as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Do not attend to your post for the day, Commander. Implore the General to do the same.”

“Thank you, my lord.” 

Vader didn't reply, and Piett pulled Veers towards the door. 

“There is a door on the other wall,” Vader interrupted him, still staring out the viewport and away from Veers. “It leads to a small sitting area that Luke was always partial to. I do not believe General Veers would like any of his subordinates to see him in such a state.”

“No,” Piett agreed. The General was still repeating the words ‘He has to be’ on a loop. “No he would not.” He wouldn't want his commanding officer to see him in such a state, either, but Piett wouldn't be the one to say that to Vader. 

He dragged the man to the door, quickly keying in his personal code, and shoved Veers inside. Knowing Vader’s protective instincts in regards to his son, Piett was certain that they were already on course for Denon. 

The missing cadets would be found. Veers and Vader would ensure it. 

________

The missing cadets _were_ found. Well… some of them. When Veers and Vader discovered the ship that was supposedly transporting the trainees from one rebel base to another, they were ecstatic. 

When all of the missing cadets _but_ Luke and Zev were among the group, however, they were less than overjoyed. 

Still, they didn't give up hope. They would find their children, if they had to tear apart every stone in the Force forsaken galaxy to do so. 

__THREE__YEARS__LATER__

Time passed. Veers was transferred to the Death Star, and Piett was promoted to Captain. He served under an insufferable Admiral by the name of Kendal Ozzel. Being around the man made Piett yearn for Luke’s sense of humor. He would scare the man away from the Star Destroyer in an instant, or at least make the situation more bearable for Piett. 

But Luke wasn't there anymore. 

________

One day, Piett was met with the sight of Maximilian Veers standing in his quarters, a bottle of whiskey in hand. “What are you doing here?” Piett wondered, his mouth agape. “Do you not have work on the Death Star today?”

Veers shuddered with a shake of his head. “I get off that blasted battle station whenever I can.”

“It is quite the monstrosity, is it not?” Piett asked slowly as he stepped over to Veers, gaging his current state of mind. “Are you alright, Max?”

Veers laughed hysterically. “Today was his birthday.”

Piett stilled. Part of him couldn't believe he had forgotten. Part of him was happy he did. Putting Zevulon and Luke behind him was the only way he could cope… but that didn't work so well for Veers. 

“How old would he be?” Piett questioned softly, slipping into a seat across from his bed. Veers slouched into the chair across from him, resting his head on his hand. The man had already had a few drinks.

“21,” Veers whispered. “On Denon, you can't drink till you’re 21. It's a right of passage, of sorts, to have a drink with your father on your 21st birthday.”

Piett hummed, taking the bottle out of Veers’ hand to place it on the floor beside him. “I see.”

“No you don't,” Veers laughed, as if the very thought of Piett understanding his feelings was hilariously untrue. “You don't see at all.”

“I understand you, Max. I truly do.”

“Luke wasn't your son. You may have thought of him as that, as your… estranged nephew figure, but he wasn't. He wasn't anything to you, Firmus. So do not, _ever_ say you understand me. You haven't lost a fragment of all I've lost.”

“Luke thought of you as his uncle, too,” Piett reminded him, ignoring Veers’ anger. “Is he nothing to you?”

Veers just laughed again, reaching for the bottle. Piett held it away from him. “Do you know why I was transferred to the Death Star, Piett?” Veers slurred. “Vader didn’t want to see me. Cause, you see, he blames _me_ for what happened to his son. As if it was _my_ fault that he sent his son off. Apparently, it's easier to avoid a guy when you’re living on a moon sized battlestation and don't have to see each other daily.”

“Veers, you’re drunk.”

“You know what, though? In some odd, turnabout way, this entire thing is Vader’s fault.”

“Max, don't.”

“If Vader had never forced me to have Zev run around with his runt, then we never would have gone on that vacation with Eliana. Then, she never would've gotten that disease, and she’d still be alive. Then, I wouldn't have had to send Zevulon away; he would understand why the Empire is good.” 

“Somethin tells me that even if we had never met Luke Skywalker, all of those events would have stayed exactly the same,” Piett sighed. He stood up, grabbing Veers by the arm. “You need to rest.”

“No,” Veers protested, hiccupping as Piett pulled him towards his bed. “Have to be back… Death Star tomorrow.”

“You have to rest, is what you have to do,” Piett demanded, pushing him into the mattress. 

Veers sighed. “How come you never do that when I tell you to?”

Piett sighed and shook his head. “Sleep, alright? One day away from the Death Star won't kill you.”

________

No, it most definitely would not. Instead, it saved his life. 

When Piett and Veers woke the next morning, they were met with the startling news that the Death Star had been destroyed. Some ramshack rebel pilot had shot a proton into the exhaust port, killing hundreds of thousands of imperial troops. 

Thankfully, Lord Vader, who had also been stationed on the Death Star when it blew, had escaped the blast, losing many pilots in the process. 

And, according to the Sith, the rebel who had made the shot was force sensitive, which, of course, increased the aura of danger surrounding the man. 

Vader, who had been wallowing in sorrow and anger for the past three years, finally had something to focus on other than the disappearance of his son. Veers and Piett were transferred to a new ship; the _Executor_ , which became the new flagship of the Imperial navy. 

Vader searched relentlessly for the pilot, nearly as relentlessly as he had searched for his son, but no matter what route he tried, he came up empty. 

Finally, Vader reached a breaking point. 

Piett had watched in disdain when he had called Boba Fett in to not only find the identity of the pilot, but to bring him to Lord Vader, dead or alive. He watched, with even more contempt in his eyes, as the bounty hunter returned with no pilot in tow. _At least_ , he had thought, _another bounty hunter will be purged from this galaxy. Surely Lord Vader would not allow Fett to survive. Not after the man failed him._

How wrong he was. 

Fett walked out of Vader’s conference room cut-free, save for those he had received during his hunt for the pilot. Curiously, Piett watched as Fett walked calmly away from the door, blaster held tightly in hand. He watched as the bounty hunter made it to the elevator, the door sliding shut behind him. And he watched as the door of Vader’s conference room crushed in on itself with a heaving groan of metal. 

The Dark Lord of the Sith was certainly not pleased. 

________

“Firmus,” Veers barked, marching across the bridge towards the Captain. “Care to explain why there’s a bounty on Luke Skywalker’s head?”

“What?” Piett exclaimed, his posture shifting away from Veers. The General hadn't mentioned Luke to him since the night of Zevulon’s 21st birthday; neither wanted to broach the painful subject after the words Veers’ had thrown about that night. “The Rebellion placed a bounty on his head?”

“No. Lord Vader did.”

“ _What?”_

“Look,” Veers brandished a datapad, waving it in Piett’s face. “100,000 credits, alive and unharmed.”

“I don't understand,” Piett said slowly. “We considered placing a bounty on Zev and Luke when they first went missing, but the idea was shot down. We were concerned the Rebellion would take advantage. What changed?”

“No clue,” Veers fumed. “I'm not one to question Lord Vader’s actions, you know that, but why the hell wouldn't he tell us before he pulled this?”

“Veers, hush! You don't know who can hear you.”

“He should've told us, Firmus.”

“He wasn't obligated to. Technically, Luke is nothing to us,” Piett reminded him. Veers flinched. 

“Technically,” he whispered. 

Piett frowned confusedly, before he nearly smacked his forehead in realization. “Dammit, Max, I wasn’t talking about what you said on Zev’s birthday. You were drunk, besides, I wouldn’t throw that in your face at a time like this.”

“Or in general,” Veers scowled lowly. “I was drunk… but I still said it, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t mean it.”

He looked away. “Not all of it.”

Piett sighed. “Well, in regards to the bounty, I’m afraid I have no better understanding of this than you.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Veers said with certainty. “You’re our resident Vader whisperer, after all.”

“Vader whisperer?!” Piett spluttered. 

“It used to be Luke. You’re not the greatest at your job, but you’re the best we’ve got,” Veers clapped the Captain on the shoulder. 

“I—I’m not, what—I’m good at my job!”

“Then go and do it.”

“I was, before you stepped in.”

“I don’t see any Vaders to be whispering to.”

“I wasn’t doing my job as a Vader whisperer, I was doing my job as Captain of the Imperial Navy!”

“Ah, so you admit that it’s your job.”

“ _Max_.”

The smile faded from the General's face. “Figure it out, Firmus,” he reasoned with the man. “You're the only one I know who can.”

_______

Questioning a Sith in regards to the bounty he had placed on his missing son’s head was harder than you’d expect. Surely, harder than Firmus had expected. 

Each time he sought to bring up the bounty, he either hesitated or was shot down by Lord Vader. No matter what he tried, there was no good time to mention Luke, not without invoking the Sith’s fury. Still, though, each time he and Veers met in the Officer’s Lounge, or crossed paths in the corridor, Piett could see the question in his eyes. 

So he decided to change tactics. Instead of outright asking the Sith about Luke, he would get Lord Vader to come to him.

Right. Because that would work. 

Shockingly enough, it did. It only took Piett ‘mistakenly’ bringing up the Empire’s Most-Wanted list on his datapad during meetings, ‘mistakenly’ mentioning him when talking with other officers, and ‘mistakenly’ falling into loud conversations with the gossipers of the _Executor_.

In all honesty, it’s a miracle the Dark Lord hadn't killed him. 

One day, when Vader called Piett to his chambers, he thought he just might. But that thought was flushed away when he found Vader staring at the drawing Luke had made when he was just five; stick figures of Vader, Luke, and Piett all standing together like a small, odd family. 

When Luke left, Vader had distanced himself from Piett. They interacted as much as a they needed, but avoided one another on the bridge, and refrained from speaking to each other as easily as they once did. 

Piett was no longer called to Vader’s quarters to gossip about Luke, no longer pulled aside to wonder about the boy’s health. Part of him enjoyed the peace. A stronger part of him mourned the loss. 

“Piett,” Vader said monotonously, his vocoder seemingly straining to pick up the soft sound. 

“My lord,” Piett bowed. 

“You have… rather clearly been wondering why I placed a bounty upon my son’s head. If I recall correctly, you were the one to suggest it, though you loathed to do so.”

“Yes, my lord,” Piett nodded. When Luke and Zev had first disappeared, he suggested placing a bounty on their head. The requirements would be ‘alive and unharmed’, of course, but it was a bounty nonetheless. “Due to my experience with pirates and criminals like them, I believed a bounty could be… unsavory, but the best course of action.”

“And will you believe me if I tell you that I simply rearranged my thinking, and agreed with what you said?”

Piett stayed silent. He would accept it, if it was what Vader told him. But he didn't believe it.

“You are far too perceptive,” Vader sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if my son picked that up from you. You've certainly had a substantial influence on his life.”

“I suppose,” Piett nodded. “Not nearly as much of an influence as you.”

“And yet…” 

“And yet?”

“And yet even with me as a father, and you as a guardian, my son still chose to join the Rebellion.”

Nothing much made sense to Piett after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I hope everyone enjoyed. The first note was just an insight into what I was thinking while writing , adn the chapter was, as usal, beta’d by @ChaoticNeutral18  
> :) Next chapter will be out Friday. It's a part two of this story! I was thinking of posting it all at once, but it got to be 61 pages long, so I figured I could split it up, to keep things interesting :)  
> If you’re bored and want to rant, give me a shout on tumblr! My usernames tagandtaylor there, as well  
> Love you all! Write you Friday!


	11. The Babysitter Saga: Part 2/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second part of The Babysitter Saga (Petty Officer Firmus Piett just wanted to get his job done and go home. He never meant to save Darth Vader's son, never meant to get transferred to the SSD Devastator, never meant to be a glorified babysitter for the literal sithspawn otherwise known as Luke Skywalker. But apparently, that's his life now. Dammit, Veers, it's not funny!).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! It's a touch later in the evening than I would've liked, but here it is! Enjoy reading, my dudes! <33333

Luke destroyed the Death Star. 

Piett knew Luke destroyed the Death Star. The galaxy knew that Luke destroyed the Death Star. The galaxy didn't know that Darth Vader was Luke’s father. Piett… knew Darth Vader was Luke’s father. 

And yet, the pieces didn't quite fit together in his head. 

Luke destroying the Death Star was, in and of itself, was incredibly difficult for Piett to grasp. 

Logically, Piett understood that the Death Star was destroyed. Luke was the one to destroy it. But the Luke who had grown up by Piett’s side wasn't the Luke who destroyed the Death Star. He couldn't be. 

For a while, he denied it. He was certain Boba Fett had been misinformed, or that Vader had been lied to. 

But Lord Vader told him that the Force rang true, and that was that. 

When he told Veers that Luke had destroyed the Death Star, he didn't believe it either. Not at first. Then, five minutes later, he was ready to storm up to the bridge and give Vader a good shout for letting Luke corrupt Zev into joining the rebellion. 

Calmly, Piett explained the Lord Vader had been ready to do the same to him. 

Veers was able to come to terms with reality much faster than Piett. He didn't appreciate it, not at all, but in Veers’ mind, it was the truth and he had to deal with it. There was no other choice. 

His son was a rebel. His son’s best friend was a mass-murderer who killed a hundred thousand people with a single shot, and felt righteous in doing so. It wasn't easy for Veers, but he could understand it. He could grasp it. 

Piett was having a much harder time. 

He couldn't click the Luke he knew to the Luke who destroyed the Death Star. It wasn't possible. Not yet. Not until a year passed since it was revealed that Luke was the one who fired the shot that destroyed the Death Star. After that year, all the confusion in Piett was replaced with cold, hard, anger. 

Anger at Luke for doing it. Angry at Vader for not stopping him. Angry at Veers, who had indirectly sent Luke away in the first place. Angry, angry, angry. 

Piett missed feeling stressed. 

________

The only person angrier than Piett was, perhaps, Vader. 

But Vader wasn't just angry, no. He felt betrayed. Betrayed by the one person he thought would always be loyal to him. Luke was his son. His last piece of her, who reminded him so much of Padme that it was, at times, painful to even look at him. ( _If he’s so much like her_ , an evil voice inside of him whispered, _then it’s no wonder he turned out to be a traitor._ )

It was more painful, though, when he thought he’d lost Luke forever. 

When his son first went missing, and he couldn't contact him through their bond, Vader’s heart practically dropped out of his chest. Somehow, he convinced himself, Luke had been cut away from me. Vader had been certain Luke was alive, and not in any pain. There was momentary distress when he was first kidnapped, but other than that, he was entirely too calm. 

Now, Luke’s emotions made much more sense. 

He was calm because he was with the rebels the entire time. He wasn't in any pain because he believed the rebels to be trustworthy, and that they would not hurt him. 

Well Vader knew better. The cruel actions rebel forces once took against the Empire had once brought his son closer to him. Luke never had much of a taste for violence. Surely the Rebellion would show their darker side to Luke yet again, forcing him to reunite with his father on the right side of the war. And if not… well. 

After Vader learned that Luke had destroyed the Death Star, he blamed Maximilian Veers. He didn't know if Zev had persuaded Luke to join the Rebellion, or if his time at COMPNOR hurt Luke more than he would show, but regardless, if Veers had never brought his son onto the _Devastator_ , Luke would still be with him. Veers inadvertently took his son away from him. It was simply because of the fact that Luke looked to Veers as if he was his uncle that Vader spared the man’s life. He had twisted Luke into a traitor; this, Vader would never forget. 

Still, though, the bounty for Luke was marked ‘alive and unharmed’. Vader would never hurt his son, nor allow others to taint him with their evil ways. But it seemed he had done just that when he allowed Luke to leave the _Devastator_. He had inadvertently opened Luke's door to the manipulations and unkind ways of the Rebel Alliance. They, too, had turned Luke away from him. 

For that they would pay dearly.

________

Luke was tired. 

Tired of bounty hunters, Imperials, battles, everything. Just… tired. 

_Now I know how Piett used to feel_ , he thought, ignoring the painful beat of his heart when he thought of the man.

Joining the Rebel Alliance was extremely gratifying for Luke. He finally felt like he had a purpose.

He had always… supported the Empire through his childhood, but as they grew up, Zev and he began to notice little things. 

Palpatine was a tyrant, but everyone seemingly believed that was fine. After all, the army controlled the entire galaxy, stomping down anyone who dared to object to Palpatine's rule. Vader was a murderer, who refused to tolerate any type of failure but his own. 

Luke had found _that_ out courtesy of Zev Veers. His childhood friend and he had gotten into a tiny argument, which turned into a shouting match, which ended with Zev screeching, “ _At least my father isn't a coldblooded murderer.”_

At the time, Luke was still a supporter of the Empire. Hearing those words fall out of Zev’s mouth was a wake-up call. 

He never truly looked at his father the same way again. 

And so, he joined the Rebellion. Rations were difficult to come by and bunks were horrifically uncomfortable, but at least the rebels seemed to like Luke. Not that they would if they knew exactly why Vader was determined to hunt him down. 

Luke’s identity had always been a well kept secret. When he was working for COMPNOR, he chafed under the burden of keeping it so. Now, he couldn't be more grateful for his father’s intuition that maybe, someday, Luke would be safest if people didn't know his identity. 

Luke was tired. 

Tired of secrets, tired of ration bars, tired of it all. 

________

Another two years passed. Eventually, they came across the three year anniversary of the destruction of the Death Star. The Empire held a candlelight vigil to mourn the deaths of the civilians aboard the battlestation. The Rebellion held a party. 

Instead of celebrating the destruction of the Death Star, though, Luke and Zev held a small get together in their bunk room on Hoth. It was his birthday, after all. Luke would much rather celebrate Zev’s birthday than the deaths of 100,000 people. 

Across the galaxy Maximilian Veers was doing the same. 

________

Luke disappeared during his patrol. Zev tried not to be nervous, but he ultimately followed Han Solo (a Captain he and Luke had come across during their days at COMPNOR) out into the frigid landscape of Hoth to look for the Jedi. 

He had to be okay. He had to be. 

________

“Luke!” Zev hollered as he ran across the icy corridor of the Hoth base. “Meet us at the rendezvous!”

“I will,” Luke called back, hurrying over to Dak and his speeder. 

“I don't need the Force to know that that’s a lie,” Zev muttered. Luke didn't hear him. Sure enough, he didn't make it to the rendezvous. Neither did Zev, for that matter. 

________

“We’re going to Bespin,” Han told Leia, Chewie, and Zev as he punched in the coordinates for Cloud City. Zev, who had barely managed to escape his father’s Thundering Herd of AT-ATs, frowned. 

“Bespin?” he questioned. 

“I've got a friend there, Lando Calrissian. He’ll fix us up, no problem.”

Zev frowned, but didn't object. The sooner they could reach the rendezvous, the better. 

________

When Zev walked into the dining room and saw Darth Vader sitting at the end of the table, he was thoroughly pissed at Han. “‘He’ll fix us up,’ you said,” Zev hissed from where he sat beside the smuggler. “‘No problem,’ you said!”

“Clearly I was wrong,” Han snidely replied. 

“Evidently so,” Vader cut in, his baritone timber slicing through the chilly atmosphere of the room. “Tell me, Zev… how exactly did you persuade Luke to join the Rebellion? Did he come up with the idea himself? Or was it, perhaps, because you were having an affair, that he felt obligated to join you?”

Zev winced. This would be one awkward dinner. “Dating,” he corrected. “Not… ‘having an affair’.”

“Of course,” Vader sneered. “Dating.” 

Leia frowned, stepping in. “Quite frankly, Lord Vader, this is none of your business.”

“It is indeed, ‘my business’, as you so crudely put it. Luke is my _son_ after all.”

Leia gaped at him. Han’s eyes widened. Zev just winced. Oh yeah. This would be awkward for sure.

________

Luke’s hand was cut off. He lost the lightsaber Obi-Wan had given him. But he lost something else, too. A part of himself. 

The part of himself that hoped maybe, just maybe, his father could still love him after all of this. 

After Bespin, after Hoth, Zev and Luke healed together. Zev was known as the Butcher’s Brat. Luke was known as a survivor. Leia and Han never told High Command what Vader revealed to them on Bespin. Not that Han had much of a chance; you can't do much when you're encased in carbonite.

Luke felt guilty about his secrets. Zev felt validated. Neither of them went out into the field for a month after Bespin; they had both been thoroughly traumatized, though Zev underwent most of this on Hoth. The idea of your father killing a thousand of your troops, your _friends_ , (and nearly killing you) wasn't a very fun concept. 

Part of Zev thought he could still hear his battalion’s screams. 

Luke was pitied the most, but eventually High Command sent him out for a three-person mission, a half-galaxy away from Vader. Zev was still off-duty. 

He didn't want Luke to go. But Luke had to prove that he wasn't fragile. So, he went. 

And, in true Skywalker fashion, the mission went horrendously wrong. 

________

Luke’s group was caught within the first half hour of their mission. They were doing recon, searching for a new base location, on a planet called Ithor in the Ottega system. 

Intel told them there wouldn’t be any Imperials on said planet. Intel was wrong. 

Of course, this wasn’t realized until one of Luke’s companions frantically called him on the comm. “Commander Skywalker,” she said in a panicked whisper, “Coco’s been shot.”

Luke swore, ducking down to the ground. He glanced around, but didn’t see the tell-tale white of stormtrooper armor peeking at him from behind the trees. He army crawled over to a fallen log, pushing himself tightly against the mossy wood. “Where are you?” he hissed back. “Is Coco alright?”

Coco Drentick was a twi'lek boy who was only 17 years old. This was meant to be his first mission. A safe mission. Clearly, the Force had other intentions. 

Luke swore, thinking to himself for a moment. He, Coco, and the woman, Adria, had split up as soon as they arrived on planet. Luke was most likely the farthest from the shuttle. Coco was the closest. 

“How quickly can you get to the ship?” he asked Adria, who’s heavy breathing was creating static in his ear. 

“Ten, maybe fifteen minutes. You?”

Luke huffed, glancing around him. He wouldn't be back for twenty, if he didn't run into any Imps along the way. “Adria,” he said, “you need to get to the ship. Stick to the shadows, stay silent. If I'm not there ten minutes after you arrive, or if the Imperial’s find our shuttle, get the hell out of here.”

Static burst through the comm as Adria shook her head. “I won't leave you.”

Luke heard marching footsteps in the distance, slowly walking closer to him. “You might not have any other choice.”

________

Needless to say, Luke was captured. He was barely a Jedi, with only a few weeks of training under his belt, and he was currently lightsaber-less, so it wasn't too difficult for the stormtroopers to overpower him.

And once they had… well. I'm sure you can see where this is going. 

________

“Luke,” Vader spoke, his rich baritone voice filling the room with sound. 

“Father,” Luke nodded back to him. 

They were silent for a moment, Luke staring at the floor of the Lambda-class shuttle and Vader staring at Luke. He took in his son’s slight form, gaze lingering on the prosthetic hand clenched into a fist at his side. 

Vader walked over to him, tipping Luke's chin up to look at him. He hasn't been this close to his son in years. Well… not unless they were slashing lightsabers through the air.

After he had a moment to take it all in, Vader dropped Luke’s chin and stepped away from him. He loathed the way his child relaxed more when Vader was farther away. 

“You joined the Rebellion,” he said slowly. 

“Really?” Luke said, looking down at himself. He was clad in green camouflage cargo pants, a tan shirt, and brown combat boots. Mud was slicked into his hair, and his cheekbone was bruised from his encounter with the stormtroopers on Ithor. “I thought it was a roleplaying group!”

Vader waved a warning finger in Luke’s face. “Do not get snippy with me, young one. Your life choices leave much to be desired.”

“Says the man who slaughtered the entire Jedi Order.”

Vader growled, grabbing Luke’s chin and pulling his face toward Vader's mask. Luke’s entire body tensed up, his right hand shaking. “You will _not_ criticise me for doing what I _had_ to do.”

“But did you? _Have_ to do it?”

“Yes. The Jedi were corrupted. There was no other choice.”

Luke was silent for a minute, staring sadly into Vader’s eyes. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Avoiding the subject will do you no good.”

“No, it won't, but it won't do me any harm. It's not like I can go anywhere; there’ll be plenty of time to talk about this later.”

“Indeed. Hopefully, by the time you wish to speak of this again, you will have seen my view of things and the conversation will not be necessary.” 

“Somehow, I don't think that’ll happen, Father.”

“You will join me, Luke. It is the only way.”

“And if I don't?”

Vader was silent for a moment, hesitant to tell Luke the truth. “If you do not comply, Palpatine will order your execution.”

Luke laughed bitterly. “I figured old Palps would rear his ugly head eventually.” Vader stayed silent. Luke sighed. “I don't assume you'll do anything to stop him, either.”

That, however, got a reaction out of the Sith. “Do not be preposterous!” he exclaimed, dark tendrils of his force presence curling around Luke. “I would not let him within five feet of you!”

Luke laughed again, the sound coming out strangled. “Oh, sure,” he said, crossing his arms protectively over his chest as he stepped away from Vader. “You chopping off my hand showed me exactly how much you care about my emotional and physical wellbeing.”

Vader’s jaw clenched. “I did not mean to harm you, young one. It happened in--”

“--the heat of the battle. I know. That doesn't make it hurt any less.”

Father and son stood together in silence, fear and hurt screaming into the Force. 

“You will be placed in your quarters on the _Executor_ ,” Vader broke the silence. “We will discuss this at a later date.”

Luke nodded, turning away from him to gaze out a viewport on the other side of the shuttle. He felt trapped, confined. This wasn't a new feeling. 

It had plagued him ever since he was a child. He thought he was free of it when he joined the Rebellion, but he should've known. He should've known. 

Skywalkers always have had a way of coming back together at unsavory times. 

________

“Is Piett still here?” Luke asked softly as Vader led him to his quarters. He ignored the underlying question. _Is Piett still alive?_

Vader ignored his question aloud, choosing to answer him through the Force bond they had forged when Luke was just a child. “ _I do not believe he wishes to see you.”_

Luke tensed up after hearing Vader’s words through their bond. The bond that had remained inactive for nearly seven years. “ _He told you that?”_ Luke replied hesitantly. Vader winced. 

“ _You are shouting, young one. Surely you cannot be that out of practise in speaking through the Force.”_

_“You’d be surprised. Is it true? Does Piett really not want to see me?”_

__Vader paused, standing in the hall of his private floor of the ship. Luke halted beside him. “I did not ask,” Vader spoke aloud, “nor did Piett wish to disrespect me by saying it, but when he learned that you would be arriving on the _Executor_ , he could feel his emotions through the Force.”

“And what were those emotions?” Luke asked, not entirely certain he wished to know the answer. 

“Grief. Worry. A touch of fear, along with overwhelming anxiety.”

“‘A touch of fear, along with overwhelming anxiety,’ is practically his bio. He does work for _you,_ afterall.”

Vader sent his exasperation to Luke through the Force. “Not fear of me, young one.”

Luke frowned for a moment, confused. “You mean… you mean he’s afraid of _me_?”

Vader simply nodded, watching Luke’s jaw drop to the floor. “You cannot blame him, my son. You’ve created quite the name for yourself in the past few years. The Rebellion’s Last Hope, Destroyer of the Death Star, Jedi knight… you’re the type to be taken lightly.”

Luke shook his head. “You must’ve read his emotions wrong. Piett couldn’t possibly have been afraid of me. He practically raised me. He knows I wouldn’t hurt him.”

________

Piett is incredibly afraid of him. Perhaps afraid isn’t the best word, but he couldn’t think of another way to say ‘angry Luke betrayed them, terrified he’d do it again, and anxious to make sure that Luke is safe’ without sounding too dramatic. 

So he settled on afraid. It was easier. Simpler. Veers didn’t agree. “I can’t believe Vader’s just letting him back,” he had growled to Piett. “At the very least, Skywalker could help us find Zev. That’s about all he’s useful for.”

Veers was angry. So was Piett. So when Lord Vader asked him to watch over Skywalker while the Sith travelled to the second Death Star to oversee the construction, he was less than enthusiastic. But his Lord ordered it, and Piett always followed his orders. 

He walked to Luke’s quarters, hiding his anxiety behind his rigid posture and blank face. He stopped in front of Luke’s door, standing at parade rest as he mentally prepared himself to enter the room. 

Finally, he raised a hand and typed a key code into Luke’s door, not bothering to announce himself. Surely the boy could feel him in the Force. 

When he walked into the room, he was met with the sight of Luke lounging on a couch a blanket pulled tight around him, his eyes tightly shut, his skin a deathly pale color. 

“Skywalker,” he said monotonously, ignoring the instinct to check on the boy, “Lord Vader told me you haven’t eaten yet today. Is there anything you need?”

Luke just groaned, shifting to turn away from Piett. The Admiral frowned. This was… unlike him. He took in the sweat pasting Luke’s hair to his forehead, the pale color of his skin, and the way Luke was shivering and wondered, for a moment, if Luke had a fever. 

_No,_ Piett reminded himself. _He’s just trying to gain your sympathy. He’s trying to escape._

Luke groaned again, and all the worry he was feeling intensified. Regardless, Piett just sighed and said, “I’ll call a droid in to bring you lunch. Goodbye.”

He turned on his heel and marched out of the room, desperate to be away from the child he thought he knew. “Piett, wait,” Luke called after him weakly. He ignored him.

________

“What do you mean he hasn't been eating?” Piett exclaimed, the droid in front of him standing stoically still in the corridor outside of Luke’s rooms. 

“I was simply wondering what you would wish for me to do with the food, sir,” the droid spoke mechanically. 

“Get him to eat it, that's what!” 

“I'm afraid I cannot do that, sir.”

“Lord Vader’s orders were very clear; we need to ensure that Luke stays healthy.”

“I've brought him food everyday, as you’ve instructed. He simply refrains from ingesting it.”

Piett frowned. “How long has it been since he’s eaten?”

“Not since Lord Vader was here, sir.”

Piett resisted the urge to swear under his breath. Vader had left three days ago. “I'll talk to him,” he said, stepping past the droid to the door. 

“Very well, sir,” the droid said pleasantly, trundling after Piett into the room. 

Piett was, once again, greeted by the sight of Luke strewn across the couch, a blanket pulled tightly against him. He was still shivering, and he didn't seem to have changed since Piett last saw him. “Luke?” he asked hesitantly. 

Luke just sniffled, curling in on himself. “Piett,” he groaned back, reaching out a single arm for the man. 

Piett frowned again, overwhelmed with the feeling that maybe, just maybe, Luke wasn't faking it. “Luke,” he said softly, walking over to the boy, “when was the last time you got up?”

Luke sniffled again. “Bathroom,” he mumbled. Piett turned, and sure enough, the door to the refresher was wide open. He poked his head into the room, looking around to see vomit spewed across the floor. 

“Kriff,” Piett mumbled, turning back to Luke. “When was the last time you had a drink?”

Luke just whined, and Piett urgently walked over to him, kneeling beside the couch. He turned to glare up at the droid. “Why didn't you inform me of the state he was in?” he demanded. 

The droid seemed taken aback. “I was not instructed to, sir.”

Piett turned back to Luke, resting a hand on his forehead. He was burning up. “Next time you see Skywalker on the verge of death, be sure to mention it,” he barked. 

“Of course, sir,” the droid said pleasantly. 

Piett glared at the robot once more, then ripped the heavy blanket away from Luke, who promptly objected, reaching weakly for the covers. “‘M cold!”

“I know,” Piett sighed. “That’s because you have a fever. You’re burning hot, Luke. we need to get you to the infirmary. _Now_.”

“Don't like the inf’mry,” Luke shook his head, weakly pushing Piett’s arms away. 

“I know,” he repeated, pulling Luke up to his feet. The boy weighed no more than skin and bones. “We still have to go.”

“‘Member when I broke my wrist?” Luke slurred, leaning against Piett for support. “Wors’ thing ever.”

“I know,” Piett sighed, pulling Luke out of his room and down the corridor. “You had to spend a whole day in the infirmary. Your father thought you would rather destroy an entire Star Destroyer than go back.” _Kind of like how you destroyed the Death Star_ , a traitorous part of him wanted to whisper to Luke. Piett ignored it. 

“My throat’s dry.”

“That’s most likely because you’re dehydrated.”

“Oh. Makes sense. Haven't had water since Dad Vader left.”

“ _What_? Luke, your body is already losing fluids. If you went much longer without water, you could've died!”

“Haha. Dad Vader.”

“ _Luke_.”

“Relax, Piett. It's not that big of a deal.”

“You could've died.”

Luke laughed. “It's not like you would have minded.”

Piett stopped walking, staring at the boy leaning on his shoulder. “Of course I would’ve minded!” 

“You didn't seem to care yesterday.”

“Yesterday? I didn't see you yesterday.”

Luke pointed at Piett, doing his best Vader impression. “Indeed, Admiral.”

Piett let out a shaky breath, guilt overcoming any fear he once held for the Jedi. “Luke, I am so sorry.”

Luke smiled sadly, shaking his head. “I don't blame you. I've killed 100,000 people. That's a lot. Besides, Father had a point. I've made quite the name for myself.”

Piett shook his head. “That’s no excuse. I thought you were trying to manipulate me. I didn't even bother to consider the fact that you were actually sick. You could've died, Luke.”

The boy just shrugged. “There's been a lot of times where I could've died, but didn't. One more isn't that big of a deal to me.”

Piett sighed, pulling him farther down the hall to Lord Vader’s personal medbay beside his quarters. “This is different.”

Luke was silent. Until, finally, he said, “Not much different than Bespin. I forgave Father for that… it’s easier to forgive you for this.”

Piett frowned. “What happened on Bespin?” Luke didn't answer. He glanced back down at the boy, who was leaning against his shoulder with his eyes shut. “Luke? Luke. Luke!”

THe boy made a small groaning sound, and Piett heaved him into his arms, carrying him hurriedly to the medbay. Luke Skywalker’s blood would _not_ be on his hands.

________

Piett paced in the hall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Firmus,” Veers called, hurrying over to him. “What happened?”

“He was sick,” Piett said, his voice breaking. “He was sick, Max, and I _ignored_ it--”

“Shh,” Veers said with a shake of his head. “Calm down, man, you’re barely breathing.”

Piett shook his head. “I don't deserve to breathe.”

“Hush, Firmus, you’re acting nearly as dramatic as our Dark Lord.”

“Don't joke, Max. This is serious. Luke could have died.”

“But he didn't,” Veers protested, his distaste for the situation evident in his tone. “He survived, as Skywalkers are prone to doing. He’ll be fine; Lord Vader’s doctors are the best of the best.”

“Indeed we are,” said one of the doctors, Madria Rodkins, who just stepped out of the medbay. Rodkins had treated Luke for years. He had a love hate relationship with the woman. Love because Rodkins was kind, funny, and enjoyable to be around. Hate because she would stick Luke in the medbay for, in his opinion, no good reason. ( _“It’s just a severe concussion that could have killed me, but didn't! It's not like I’m dying!”_ being one of his finest protests against the woman.)

Piett perked up, hurrying over to her. “Is he alright?”

The other doctor, whose name Piett didn't know, said, “Mr. Skywalker is doing just fine. He’s sleeping now, but we put in an IV to treat his dehydration, and we’re administering a course of antibiotics to stave off the infection that caused his fever.”

“We think he got the infection a few months ago, as a result of his amputation. It’s simply to treat, though it would've been nice to know about his prosthetic _before_ you let us poke a needle into his arm,” Rodkins joked. Piett frowned, exchanging a confused look with Veers. 

“What prosthetic?” the General asked. 

“What amputation?” Piett wondered.

Rodkins started, and the other doctor gaped. “You weren't aware?”

“Of what?!” 

“Someone cut off his hand,” Rodkins sighed, attempting to placate their nerves. “The prosthetic itself is cutting edge. I assume Lord Vader paid for it?”

“When was it given to him?” Veers wondered. “Do you know?”

“Judging by the way the skin has grown around it,” the male doctor hummed, “I'd say about a month and a half.”

Piett exhaled angrily. “Bespin.” 

The others looked at him in confusion, but Piett knew exactly what had happened to Luke’s hand. 

________

“He cut off his hand!” Piett shouted to Veers, who was lounging in a chair beside Luke’s hospital bed. “How could he be so--”

“Firmus,” Veers drawled, twirling a datapad pen in his hand. “Just yesterday you didn't even want to speak about Skywalker. Please don't attempt to assassinate the Dark Lord of the Sith over someone you didn't even want to speak about yesterday.”

Piett glared fiercely at him. “I would never betray or disrespect Lord Vader. Though you can be sure, Max, that when he comes back, there will be _words!_ ”

Veers sighed, taking a bite of the day old Blue milk pudding that Luke had never eaten. “Imagining you having ‘words’ with Vader is imagining watching an angry Ewok scream at a Wookiee.”

“Listen Max, I know you're mad at Luke--”

“No, he only got my son to join the Rebellion, killed my coworkers on the Death Star, and nearly killed me.”

“--but even you have to see how dreadful that must have been for him!”

“I'm far more sympathetic to Lord Vader’s side of things.”

“So you would pull a Vader and cut off Zev’s hand?!”

“No,” Veers sighed, slurping up another spoonful of the pudding. “I would simply advance a fleet of AT-ATs on a base where I knew my son was living, open fire, kill over 1,000 rebels, and live in constant fear that I placed the orders for my own child’s execution.”

Piett winced. “Max-” 

“Firmus, I respect Lord Vader a great deal. I also understand him. Do not criticise the man's actions when you don't have the faintest idea of his own view of things.”

“Luke said he forgave him.”

Veers sighed, finishing off the pudding. “That doesn't surprise me. Luke always has been a forgiving little bugger.”

Piett snorted in amusement. “He never had much to forgive people for.”

“That wasn't always the case,” Veers told him with a shake of his head. “He and Zev got into quite a few arguments when they were younger.”

Piett frowned. “I never heard of any fights between the two.”

“I did. Luke was never the gossipy type, but Zev would voice his frustrations every now and then.”

“How often is every now and then?”

“Once a year, maybe twice. We kept those two far too close. We should’ve let them have other friends, other lives. I sometimes wonder if we're the reason they went to the Rebellion in the first place.”

“I do, too,” Piett admitted, glancing at Luke's unconscious form on the bed. “I also wonder if the destruction of the Death Star was a good thing.”

“Thousands of people died, Firmus.”

“And millions of lives were most likely saved. Who knows what other planets the Emperor would have destroyed.”

Veers was silent for a moment, before giving in to Piett’s opinion. “I think the Death Star never should have existed in the first place. It was a great military weapon, but in the hands of a man such as the Emperor, who knows what else would have been done with it.”

Piett nodded grimly, slumping into a seat beside Veers. He held back a yawn and rubbed his brow tiredly. 

“You should sleep,” Veers said. “We both should; it's 0100 hours and we haven't slept since yesterday.”

“ _You_ haven't slept since yesterday.”

“Exactly my point. Rest, Firmus. Luke will be here when we wake up.”

Piett sighed, refusing, at first, to give into Veers’ demands. But the holochrome beside Luke’s bed went blurry as he blinked his eyes shut, falling into a deep sleep.

________

“How did we _lose_ him?!” Firmus exclaimed. “I've managed not to lose him since he was five, but here we are, running around a ship the size of a city, looking for a sick 23 year old who most likely can't even walk without support.”

“We’ll find him,” Veers said. “Honestly!” 

Piett glared at him. “You said that he would be here when we woke up.”

“Clearly, he wasn't,” Veers snapped back. “Now come on; it’s only been five hours. He can't have gone far. Not without help.”

“And if he did have help? If this is the Rebellion’s scheme to infiltrate the _Executor_?”

“Then we’ll foil their plan! The ship is on lockdown; no one going in or out. We’ll find him, Firmus.”

Piett sighed, shaking his head. “Vader will murder me if I've lost his son.”

“Hazard of the job,” Veers waved a dismissive hand. “Please, Firmus, we all know you have diplomatic immunity.”

“Diplo--”

“You’re Luke's favorite. You'll be fine. Now, let’s find that little sithspawn, no?”

With that, the General marched down the hall towards the nearest hangar, Piett trailing close behind him. 

________

Luke wasn't in any of the hangars. He wasn't on the bridge, or in any other medbay. No one caught a glimpse of him since he disappeared. Piett was panicking. He thought Luke had been kidnapped, or killed. Veers was much calmer, though a touch frazzled with the boy’s disappearance. 

“He's a Jedi,” he reasoned with the Admiral. “He’ll be fine. Besides, he’s got to be somewhere on this ship, doesn't he?”

“Luke Skywalker is a crafty little sithspawn of an escape artist,” Piett protested vehemently. “He's probably long gone.”

Veers whistled lowly. “I haven't heard you talk about Luke like that since he was eight years old and determined to steal food from the Officer’s Lounge at every chance he got.”

“Junk food, specifically,” Piett rubbed his face anxiously. “Cake was banned from the _Devastator_ because of the sugar highs it gave him and Zev.”

“Don't remind me,” Veers sent him a glare. “Those two always were a force to be reckoned with. When they came together it was dreadful for all those involved.”

Piett frowned. “Say that again.”

“Don't remind me?”

“No, the last part.”

“When they came together it was dreadful for all those involved,” Veers said slowly. “Firmus, what are you--”

“I know where they are!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet and raced down the corridor. “Hurry, now, Max!”

Veers sighed. “I'm too old for this.”

With that, he stood up and walked hurriedly after Firmus, pushing past the bewildered officers the man left in his wake. 

________

Piett raced down to Luke’s quarters, skidding to a stop at the door to the common area. He burst through the opening and, sure enough, was met with Luke and Zev sitting on the couch watching a holodrama. 

On the holoprojector, two characters kissed, and Luke frowned. “Boo!” he exclaimed, throwing a piece of food at the projector.

“Why are you booing?” Zev exclaimed. “That’s a classic ship!”

Luke shook his head. “Yeah, but Will and Hannibal are way better together.”

“They’re murderers!”

“ _They are in love!_ ”

Piet sighed, leaning against the door frame in relief. “Thank god you’re alive.”

“No thanks to you,” Zev replied sarcastically. “You know, I came here wide-eyed and hopeful, thinking I'd be able to break him out and we’d run away and conquer the galaxy together. How dare you allow him to get sick? You've successfully foiled all my plans, Firmus, well done!”

“He didn't _allow_ me--”

“Oh, please, if Firmus had told you not to get sick, you wouldn't have.”

“I don't health and wellness works like that.”

Zev just raised an eyebrow and turned back to the holodrama. Soon after Piett arrived, Veers slipped into the room, relaxing when he saw Luke… and immediately tensing back up when he caught sight of Zev.

“Z-Zev?!” he choked, staring at the boy’s dark hair and familiar stature. 

Zev whipped around to look at him, shocked that Veers had come. “Oh,” he said, the mirth from before disappearing from his voice. “Hi, Dad.”

________

As far as family reunions go, Luke thought this one was going pretty well. 

“You don't understand!” Zev screamed at his father, who was glaring at him from his place in the doorway. 

“You're right, Zev, I _don't_ ,” Veers shouted back, fists clenched at his sides. “I don't understand how a perfectly good and loyal Imperial can turn into a rebel overnight. I don't know how your views shifted so drastically, though I clearly have an idea of why!”

They'd been arguing for the past ten minutes, but it could be worse.

“Really? Well what idea is that, Dad? Huh? Tell me how you decided to distract yourself from the fact that I'm really, truly, not a fan of the Empire. Tell me how you distracted yourself from the fact that I'm nothing like you.”

“Because it wasn't your choice.”

“Wasn't it?”

“No. _He_ ,” Veers pointed wildly at Luke, “convinced you to change your values.”

Well. At least no one’s gotten their hands chopped off…

“You convinced me to do that just fine, thank you very much,” Zev shot back at him. "If anything, I persuaded _him_ to join the Rebellion!"

… yet. 

Luke and Piett sat on the sofa, staring at Zev and Veers all through their shouting match. “This is going well,” Piett sarcastically sighed. 

“We should stop them, right?” Luke wondered. 

“Ethically, yes. Entertainment wise… no, I don't believe we should.”

Luke bit his lip, then nodded. “Estranged father-son duo meets again after years apart. Now _that’s_ a holodrama I could get into.”

Piett listened to their arguing for another fifteen minutes, before standing up and telling them, “Listen to yourselves.”

Veers and Zev slowly turned towards him, glaring defiantly at the Admiral. “Something you’d like to say, Firmus?” Veers asked coldly.

Luke sighed. “Zev, can you honestly tell me you haven't missed your father over the past six years?”

Zev glared at him. “Of course.” 

“Do it, then,” Piett said, heaving Luke up from his spot on the couch. Luke leaned on his shoulder for support, gazing at Zev with an innocent look in his eyes. 

Zev raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Do it, coward,” Luke jabbed at him jokingly, a small smile coming over his face. 

“I haven't…” Zev looked into Luke’s eyes, and swore. “Dammit, Luke, make it easier to lie to you!”

Luke tipped back his head and laughed. “Can you honestly say you haven't missed Zev, Veers?” 

Veers glared at him, and said begrudgingly, “No. No, I cannot.”

“Great,” Luke smiled. “In that case, enjoy the fact that you’re together again. Who knows how long it’ll last…” 

Veers’ gaze hardened. He turned to Zev and told him, “You're not going anywhere.”

Zev sighed, staring at his father with a guarded look in his eyes. “I did miss you, you know.”

Hesitantly, Veers smiled. “I know. 

The corner of Piett’s lips quirked up a bit, and Luke broke into a full on grin. “Let’s call a truce,” he promoted. “Stay peaceful and positive until we can talk about… well, everything, without getting into a screaming match.”

“You've thought this through,” Veers observed. 

“Me and my father are doing the same. If Lord Vader’s doing it, can't you?”

“ _Why not?_ ” Piett thought. After all, what did they have to lose?

________

A week later, Vader returned. Piett and Luke greeted him alone when his shuttle landed in the Executor’s main hangar, Luke finally strong enough to walk without feeling weak. They hadn't told him that Zev was back, yet, or that Luke spent time in the medbay. Him learning of that wouldn't be fun for Piett, but he knew it was necessary. 

Vader, Luke, and Piett walked back to Luke’s quarters, Piett barely containing his anxiety. Zev and Veers were waiting in Luke’s living room, and Vader would most likely sense them before they arrived. Thankfully, though, the Sith stayed silent, but when Luke led him into the living room to reveal that his most trusted officers had been in cahoots with the two rebels, he was less than pleased. 

“What _exactly_ is going on here, Admiral?” he snapped, turning to Piett. The Admiral straightened up under his commander’s gaze. 

“Zev and Luke had a proposition for us, my lord,” he explained. 

“Luke. _Explain_.”

Luke nodded, stepping up towards Vader. “We don't like the Emperor. He’s heinous, and cruel, and even Veers agrees that his brain baby is horrifying.”

“Brain… baby?”

“The Death Star,” Zev clarified, drawing Vader’s attention to himself. 

“You,” Vader growled. “You turned my son against me.”

Zev half expected his father to stand up for him. Unsurprisingly, General Veers’ loyalty to his job outweighed his loyalty to his family. 

Thankfully, Luke stood up for Zev instead. “He did _not!_ Every choice I made in regards to the Rebellion, I made myself.”

Vader scoffed. “You will not expect me to believe that you would turn against your own father without an outside influence.”

“And you will not tell me what to expect,” Luke persisted. 

“I am your father, I will not—”

“Would you be a good father and listen to your son for once, then?” Zev cut across the room to stand front of Luke.

“This isn’t what we were meant to speak of,” Piett said, tearing Vader’s attention away from Luke and Zev. 

Vader glared at him. “Do not think I am ignoring your betrayal, Admiral. If you did not have my son’s favor, believe me, you would not be standing here.”

“I got where I am on my own merits,” Piett said self assuredly. “And while I apologize for the betrayal, I would appreciate it if you would hear us out. Your son has brought up some excellent points.”

Vader glared at him, and spun to push past Zev to get in front of Luke. “You have five minutes,” the behemoth figure boomed. “Do not waste them.”

Luke smiled brightly, stepping up closer to his father. “We don’t like the Emperor. The Empire itself is bad enough, but the Emperor makes it worse. So,” he took a deep breath, and told Vader, “we want to dethrone him. Put someone else in his place, someone good.”

Vader contemplated the idea. “And afterwards?”

Veers chuckled at that, and Luke winced. “Ah, we aren’t sure yet.”

“You aren’t sure yet,” he repeated monotonously. “If you’re planning on dragging Admiral Piett and General Veers into your treasonous lifestyle, you should truly plan your actions better than ‘we aren’t sure yet’, young one.”

“Agreed,” crowed Veers, who, along with Piett, had despised the plan (or lack thereof) from the beginning. 

“Fine then,” Luke sighed. “Got any ideas, Father?”

Vader, of course, saw the question for what it was. His child was asking him to commit treason. For a moment, he let himself imagine it. He would place Luke on the throne, of course. Keep him safe from corruption. His son would bring joy to a galaxy that had been without it for so long. 

“Indeed I do,” Vader said. “Shall we, then?”

Luke bounced up on the balls of his feet. “We shall!”

________

“I still wish it was merely you and I carrying out this plan. I see no reason to involve the Veers’,” Vader said to Luke, who he was standing with on the bridge of the _Executor_ , staring out a viewport. Zev and his father had left to… discuss their recent actions, and Piett was tending to his duties, which left Luke and Vader alone. 

Luke laughed, shaking his head at his father’s antics. “I know you and Veers aren't very happy with each other because of the whole… your-son-corrupted-mine, no-you thing that you’ve got going on, but really you should start a support group.”

Vader hummed amusedly. “And what would this support group of yours be called?”

“B.I.T.C.H.E.S.”

“Language,” reminded Piett, who was walking past the two and overheard Luke’s less than stellar group name. He was gone as soon as he had appeared, off to run the bridge with alarming perfection. 

“Badass Imperials That Can't Help Each-others Sons.”

Vader held back a sigh. “Unfortunately, I believe there are far more than General Veers and I who could take place in this… support group.”

“True,” Luke sighed. “Most Imperials are emotionally unintelligent.”

“An unfortunate consequence of running the galaxy,” Vader dismissed. “There's simply no time to dally in emotions while lives are on the line.” Luke didn't answer, so Vader changed the subject. “Have you contacted your little Alliance?”

“Yes,” Luke replied. “High Command is aware of our plan. They’re planning to follow our lead.”

“Your lead, you mean. I sincerely doubt the Rebel Alliance wants anything to do with me.”

Luke smiled sheepishly. “Agreed. In their defense, though, you've been hunting us relentlessly.”

“As I am prone to do, when it comes to terrorists.”

Luke just shook his head. His involvement in the Rebel Alliance was something Vader would most likely never agree with. “As far as I can see, our plan is coming along. I don't think it'll go off without a hitch, or anything, but things look good so far.”

“It most definitely will not ‘go off without a hitch’ as you say. Though things may progress much smoother if you would allow me to train you.”

“We’ve been over this. I won't turn to the dark side!”

Vader sent Luke a sigh across their bond. “And if I did not train you in the ways of the Sith?”

“What else would you do? Teach me how to be a Jedi? Somehow, I can't see that happening.”

“There are certain areas in the Force that are not dominated by the light or dark sides.”

“Such as?” 

“Certain lightsaber techniques, mind shielding, things such as that.”

"I don't think you teaching me anything is a good idea."

"Nor do I believe that you facing the Emperor without a lightsaber is a good idea."

Luke winced sharply, recalling the memory of watching his lightsaber fall down the air shaft at Bespin. Vader had a point; without it, Luke was nearly defenseless. “I'll consider it…” 

“Good. we must be a united force if we are to destroy the Emperor,” Vader nodded affirmatively. 

And a united force they were.

________

Luke and Vader worked in tandem, twirling their lightsabers (newly made, in Luke's case) through the air to avoid Palpatine’s lightning. Eventually, Palpatine’s deadly force lightning let up. Luke heaved in heavy breaths, Vader standing beside him. 

“You truly think you can turn your father?” the old man sneered to Luke hatefully. “Once you fall, you cannot turn back.”

Luke glanced back at Vader. “I disagree. Some people are just meant to be redeemed.”

With that, Vader and Luke advanced on the Emperor, who weakly shot lightning out of his fingertips. After what felt like hours of fighting, the Sith finally fell to the ground, too weak to fight back. Luke stepped forward to deal the killing blow, but Vader stepped in front of him. 

“No, Luke,” he told him. “I must commit the act of killing him.”

Luke frowned. “Why?”

“It is the way of the Sith for the apprentice to strike down the Master. If you kill Palpatine, you will travel down a path that would leave you nothing but despair.”

“What path is that?” Luke asked. 

Vader paused for a moment. “The path of the Dark Side. A trail you will never cross again.”

With that, Vader swung his scarlet red blade down over Palpatine’s head, finally ending it all. As his life force ebbed away, a tremor flew through the Force. Luke gasped at the strength of the disturbance. “Was that--”

“Palpatine died,” Vader sighed. “And with him, the last Sith willing to pass on his knowledge.”

“Does that mean--”

“You will not be forced to turn, young one. Your chance of living my life has officially passed.”

Luke exhaled sharply, running his free hand through his hair. His brilliant green lightsaber was still shining in his left hand. “I didn't think… I didn't think you’d ever let up.”

“I did not believe I would. But Palpatine’s death marks the end of an era. My feelings have changed.”

“Really?” 

“Indeed, young one. You needn't fear the dark side any longer.”

Luke relaxed, a huge weight lifting off his shoulders. “The end of an era. I really like the sound of that.”

“As do I, my son. As do I.”

________

“We did it!” Luke screamed, racing over to Zev. Zev, Piett, and Veers had ordered the Imperial fleet away from the second Death Star, allowing the Alliance fighters to destroy it. Luke and Vader finally met them on the bridge of the Executor, where they promised to speak to one another before the inevitable confrontation between the Alliance and Darth Vader.

Zev laughed, pulling Luke into a deep hug, then, he pulled away, and yanked Luke into an even deeper kiss. Piett balked and Veers’ eyes widened. 

“I'm very sorry, but… what?” Piett questioned. 

“Uhm…” Luke glanced at Zev in confusion. “We did it?”

“Clearly,” Veers choked, his voice slightly hysterical. “But I believe Firmus was referencing… that.” he gestured vaguely between Luke and Zev. 

Zev frowned, his eyebrows creasing. “The kiss?”

“Clearly,” Piett wheezed. “That is a, ah, recent development.”

“It's been four years since we started dating!” Luke protested. 

“And even longer since we started kriffing each other,” Zev deadpanned. Luke elbowed him in the side, and he winced. “Ah, sorry.”

“I'm sorry,” Veers whimpered, “did you say four years?”

Luke glanced at him, confused. “You knew this!”

“No. No, I most definitely did not.”

“He did,” Zev shrugged and waved to Vader.

Piett raised an eyebrow. “Did he? Surely he would have told us.”

Vader was silent. Veers frowned. “My lord?”

“If you would excuse me,” Vader said, backing away, “I have duties to attend to.”

He spun on his heels and hurried away, his cape swishing behind him. 

“What duties?” Luke exclaimed. “We just committed treason. What could you possibly have to do that’s more important than that?!”

__FIVE__YEARS__LATER__

Piett slumped into a chair at the bar, waving to the bartender. “Get me something strong,” he sighed. 

“You celebrating something, Admiral?” the bartender asked. 

“Mourning, actually.”

“I'm sorry. Who did you lose, if you don't mind me asking?” 

“My sanity,” Piett sighed, dropping his head onto the bar. 

“Don't be dramatic, Firmus,” Veers beamed as he slid into a seat beside him. “You've never had much of that in the first place!”

Piett shot him a glare, and was swiftly ignored as Veers ordered the strongest drink the bartender had. 

“You mourning, too?” the bartender asked warily. 

“Celebrating, actually,” grinned Veers, a joyful smile crossing his face. “My son just adopted two children. Mira and Anakin Skywalker-Veers.”

“Congratulations,” Piett replied angrily. “You’re a grandfather.”

“And you should be happier about this! You’ll love those kids exactly as much as I will.”

“Don't you see? That's the problem!”

“I really don't see, Firmus. Aren't you glad to have a miniature Luke and Zev running around?”

“Listen to yourself.” 

Veers frowned, considering his statement. “Oh. Oh, I see what you mean.”

“Yes.” 

“Luke and Zev were menaces.” Unbidden, the memory of Luke sitting on Vader’s shoulders and commanding the bridge came to mind. 

“Exactly.” 

“... we’re screwed.”

“Exactly,” Piett sighed. “I would say you more so than me, because you’re the children’s grandfather, but we all know that Luke will turn to me to be the babysitter.”

“Like father like son,” agreed Veers. When the bartender returned, he found both Veers and Piett sitting with grim expressions crossing their faces. 

“Still celebrating?” he asked Veers.

Veers, who looked as if the galaxy fell out from under him, just smiled absently. “I suppose it’s a good thing I never had much sanity in the first place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Piett never got a chance to yell at Vader for cutting off Luke''s hand :((((  
> Anyways, my darlings, I hope you liked it! Next I'm planning on either doing: 
> 
> **(RED)** Luke, Vader, and Piett are stranded together after a shuttle crash  
>  **(ORANGE)** Vader is rescued by Luke  
>  **(YELLOW)** Luke is a musician and Vader learns of his existence through that  
>  **(GREEN)** Vader realizes Leia is his kid before ANH  
>  **(BLUE)** Dimension travel/time travel  
>  **(INDIGO)** There's a peace treaty between the Rebellion and the Empire after the death of Palpatine (maybe an extension of this universe where Piett helped to raise Luke. it would be revealed that Leia is Vader's daughter here)[I could also make it set after Palpatine dies in the OG trilogy, but everyone else lives bc Piett deserved better.]  
>  **(VIOLET)** Modern au where Luke goes on a school trip, ding-dong-ditches some rich dudes house, and accidentally gains a father out of the whole debacle
> 
> Also, the FBI thing should be out soon. I'm going to lose my beta for a week or two (she's leaving me for coding camp! congrat's though, becca! i'm proud of u, little miss koding with klossy!!! you're a literal star and you're going to go so far in life :DDDD) so chapters will either be sort of messy or nonexistent. I have no clue what I'm going to title it, though, so it might just be 'FBI THINGY" or something equally effortless.'FBI thingy' is what I call it in my google docs, so right now that's what we've got. 
> 
> Anyways, vote on whatever you want next! if no one votes, I'll write something super dark and spoopy where everyone dies and yet everyone lives. Love you all! 
> 
> (p.s.: be happy!)
> 
> (p.p.s.: I was just super confused cause my glasses were all smudged and then I realized I had puppy saliva and horse snot on the lenses. I am disgusted. D':)
> 
> (p.p.p.s.: i'm typing on my computer, so the emoji quality is unfortunately nonexistent. :(((()


	12. Ding-Dong-Ditchers and Souvenir Pictures (Violet)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Luke Skywalker ding-dong-ditches a creepy house during a school trip, he's met with new friends, a father, and... oh. Well, not a mother. Who the hell killed Padme Amidala?!?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ME: my dad just forgot a work zoom...
> 
> ME: *thinks about him being annoyed when I forgot my class zooms*
> 
> ME: vEnGeAnCe  
> ...
> 
> ME: *starts chapter
> 
> ME, talking to my friend: i’d rather have a horse than a boyfriend...
> 
> ME: INSPIRATION
> 
> ME: .... I know what I’m doing next chapter  
> ...
> 
> Things I’ve forced Becca to listen to:  
> “Hehe I’m threatening my readers again 🙃” “Whhhhhahdjandownnfnw.” “Awesome. Don’t care. HORSES.” “ITS CRAZY AND IM DYING” “Awwww she’s so villainous” “It’s so hot, I’m literally a baking SINnamon roll” “Sorry I didn’t answer, I was counting all the random bruises on my body. I have 16! :D”
> 
> Just so you know, I have an evil cat who enjoys stepping on my computer while I write. She’s rude, even though she’s named after Anna from Frozen, who is a sweet naive bean. She just meowed at me REALLY loudly through my door and would like you all to know that she’s protesting me not letting her into my room while I write.  
> Anyways, enjoy the read!!
> 
> (P.S.: I wrote this authors note two days ago. Update: I now have 18 bruises. My dog just got fixed and cant pull out her stitches, so instead, she greatly enjoys running into me with her cone of shame)

“Alright, everyone,” Mon Mothma said, clapping her hands together. “Listen up, because I’m only going to say this once.”

Luke shushed Wedge, who had been yapping excitedly in his ear about the newest X-Wing model plane. The class was sitting on a large Coach bus, baking in the heat. They had been on the road for the past eight hours, and the drive from Alliance High School to Coruscant had taken its toll on the high schoolers. The school year was a month away from completion, and this trip was their last of junior year. Next year, they would be seniors, focused on college and graduation. Wedge rolled his eyes, but turned to hear Mothma out.

“Now I know you’re all excited about our trip—”

Wes Janson whooped loudly, causing the rest of the class to burst into laughter.

“—but that does not mean you are allowed to act like undignified hooligans. You are here representing Alliance High School. It is your duty to our school to project our image positively; to all of the Coruscanti locals, you will appear to be calm, kind, orderly children.”

“Isn't this a little extra?” Hobbie muttered, leaning over to bump his shoulder against Luke’s. “We get it, Mothwoman, we’ll behave.”

“Just listen, Hobbie,” Luke laughed quietly. “It'll be over soon.”

“Not if we die first,” Wes groaned, closing his eyes and sticking out his tongue. “Do I look dead?”

“Not yet,” Hobby shrugged. “But if we stay in here much longer, Luke will be a baked cinnamon roll and you’ll be a burnt sinnamon roll… emphasis on sin.”

Luke’s group laughed at Hobbie’s statement, which led Mothma to abruptly cut herself off.

“Is there something you wish to share with the class, gentlemen?” They shook their heads as their laughter faded away. “No? Well, in that case, Mr. Janson, please save your jokes for another time.”

Wes gaped at her. “Why are you blaming _me_?”

“Because it’s always you, Wes,” Luke sighed. The rest of the class nodded, verbalizing their agreement.

“But-”

“As I was saying, please refrain from…”

Luke yawned as their teacher droned on, which garnered a concerned glance from Wedge. “Have you been sleeping?” his friend asked in a hushed whisper.

“Yeah,” Luke shrugged. “Just not as much as I should be.”

“Because… why?”

“I don't know! Insomnia, or something. C’mon, we’re teenagers; none of us get enough sleep.”

“You need sleep, Luke. If it’s just insomnia, you should ask your aunt and uncle about Melatonin. It works wonders, honestly!”

“I don't want to get addicted to the stuff,” he sighed as the class stood and began to file out of the bus on Mothma’s orders. “Wedge, drop it. I'm fine.”

Luke followed the line and hopped off the bus, stretching his back in the sun.

“Finally,” groaned Leia, a friend from Luke’s poli-sci class. “We’ve been on that bus for forever.”

“Eight hours ain’t forever, princess,” scowled Han.

“I'm not a princess.”

“No? Well, you sure are prissy.”

“ _PRIS_ \--"

“Hey, guys, look! It's our hotel!” Wes exclaimed as he burst off the bus. Sure enough, the junior class of Alliance high school was standing in front of a large, sprawling building that had to be nearly 50 stories tall. The sparkling sides of the building glinted in the sunlight.

“Alright, everyone,” Mothma sighed. “Me and Mr. Ackbar will be checking in at the front desk; stay here, and don’t cause anything with the locals. Be kind and courteous, please. We’d like to come back, remember!”

The class grumbled in agreement, most of the students stretching their limbs, stiff from the ride. Ackbar and Mothma disappeared inside, leaving the 20 students outside to fend for themselves.

“Why would they leave us alone?” Leia asked, her nose wrinkling slightly. “Surely they know better.”

“We can be responsible, princess,” Han shrugged, dropping an elbow onto Luke’s shoulder. Luke shook the boy off.

“I’m not a princess. Besides, we all know that you nerf herders aren’t anything close to responsible.”

“She’s right about that one,” Wes grinned, cutting into their conversation. He, Wedge, Hobbie, Luke, Leia, Lando, and Han all stood together in a small group, a few feet away from the rest of the class.

“Except for Luke,” Hobbie reminded them.

“And me!” Wedge protested.

“And Wedge. Sometimes.”

Han snorted, holding up a hand. “I can be responsible!”

“How?” Luke wondered.

“I’ve raised Chewie since he was a pup!”

“Yes, and that mutt drools everywhere and has terrible manners!” Leia scoffed. “Try again.”

Han huffed good-naturedly and shook his head. He looped an arm around her shoulders, pulling Leia closer to him. “Whatever you say, princess.”

“I’m _not_ a prin—”

“Anyways,” Luke sighed, turning away from the couple, focusing on Wedge, “do you know what’s on the agenda for today? I’m exhausted, so I gotta know how much sight-seeing to prepare for.”

Wedge leaned around and discreetly reached into Leia’s backpack, pulling out a folded slip of paper. He unfolded the wrinkled thing, squinting at the small font. “I need a new prescription,” he mumbled, waving to his contact lenses.

Lando snatched it from his hands, reading it aloud. “Today we’re going to some statue of that white guy.”

Luke frowned. “Palpatine?”

“That’s the one.”

“Great. What else?”

“Uhm, it’s like three o’clock, so I guess we’re going to spend like an hour looking at Palpatine. Then we’re supposed to go out to eat, then settle back into our hotel.”

“Alright,” Luke nodded. That was manageable. “I hope our rooms are close together.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You’re right, I really don’t. Are you seriously going to stay up all night?”

“Dude!” Hobbie cut in. “We’re all together for an entire week. Everyday’s a sleepover!”

Luke groaned, shaking his head. “I was already tired enough.”

Wedge gave him a worried glance, but Hobbie and Wes simply bumped each other shoulders, sharing a mischievous look. “Sleep?” Wes asked. “Who’s that?”

Luke sighed again. Wasn’t that just the story of his life.

________

Sure enough, Luke got little to no sleep that night. He was bunking with Han and Lando, who, of course, spent the entire night debating who owned the crappy van Han used to drive Leia to school every day.

Han had won the van in a game of poker between him and Lando, which, of course, enraged the man’s father. Technically, the van was Lando’s, seeing as how Han cheated at poker. Well, that’s what Lando claimed, anyhow.

Han, on the other hand, said he won the van fair and square. “All’s fair in cars and poker!” he told Lando, who just scoffed at him.

“Not cheating! Cheating is _not_ fair in cars and poker!”

“I didn’t cheat!”

“Yes you did! I _saw_ you slide the card under the table—”

“Then why wouldn’t you say something?!”

“That isn’t—I wasn’t… that’s not the point! The point is, you cheated, and my old man nearly had my head because of it!”

“I didn’t chea—”

Luke groaned and yanked a pillow over his ears. This would be a fun night.

________________

The next morning, the crew stopped downstairs for breakfast, practically shoveling food into their mouths. Leia eyed the boys distastefully, squinting at the syrup on their chins.

“What, were you raised by wolves?” she asked.

“Prissy,” Han mumbled. She shot him a warning glare, and he quickly backed off.

“Don't worry, Leia,” said Luke, the only one eating like a civilized human being. “I'm as disgusted as you are.”

Leia cringed, and the group's focus was pulled to the front of the hotel’s large dining hall when Ackbar called for their attention. “Finish up,” he told them gruffly. “We’re heading out for the day in about ten minutes, and the tour guide won’t tolerate lollygaggers.”

He stepped down, off of the small podium he had heaved himself onto in order to get the group’s attention. Luke’s table giggled between themselves, elbowing one another lightly. “Ye old lollygaggers!” Wes mimicked.

Luke shook his head at him with a laugh. “Ackbar isn't even that old! He’s what, 45 at the most?”

“47,” Leia cut in. “His birthday was last month.”

“Of _course_ you know the teacher’s birthday,” Wedge laughed with a roll of his eyes.

Leia glared at him. “There’s nothing wrong with knowing your teachers’ birthdays, Wedginald.”

The group burst into laughter, and Han squirted orange juice out his nose with a wheeze. “ _Wedginald_.”

Leia frowned and cleaned up his mess with the cloth napkin previously laying on her lap. She chided him gently for the waste while Luke sighed and turned to Wedge. “How did you sleep?” Wedge asked him.

Luke shrugged. “Ironically, better than the night before last. I think I got a solid six hours. That’s a lot, for me.”

Wedge frowned, leaning back in his seat. “Studies show that teens need at least eight, hopefully nine hours of sleep every night.”

“And you get that?”

“No, but I'm irresponsible and do it to myself.”

Luke chuckled, picking up his plate and walking it towards the pile of dishes on the other side of the room. “Whatever you say, _Wedginald_ ,” he called out over his shoulder. The kids at tables surrounding them heard the nickname and giggle amongst themselves.

Wedge sighed mournfully. “That’s never going away.”

________

“Wedginald, get your ass over here for a picture!” Wes shouted to Wedge, who was standing across the monument with Luke and Leia.

Wedge groaned. “It hasn't even been 24 hours, and I'm ready for that nickname to die.”

Leia winced. “I didn't know it would catch on so fast, otherwise I wouldn't have said it.”

“Yes, you would’ve.”

“... alright, maybe if we were _alone_ \--"

“Wedge!” Wes shouted again.

“I should go over there before Mothma reams him out for shouting, huh?” Luke and Leia nodded in agreement and Wedge sighed, jogging over to Wes. “I'm coming! Calm your tits, Janson.”

“Watch your profanity,” Leia curtly reminded him.

Luke snorted out a laugh and she glared at him. “What?” he exclaimed. “It’s a _classic_ vine reference, how could I not laugh?”

Before she could answer, Han slid up to them and threw an arm around Leia’s waist. “So who is this chick, anyways?”

Luke glanced back at the marble statue and shrugged. “Apparently, she died like a decade ago. Her’s is one of the newer statues that Palpatine had commissioned during his first term.”

“Her name’s Padme Amidala,” Leia told them. “She was a senator for years, and nearly became president. Everyone loved her, but she was assassinated during her campaign.”

“Which left us with Palpatine,” Luke realized, a few tidbits of information regarding the senator popping into his mind. “I heard there was some controversy about that… didn't people say Palpatine had her killed because she was his biggest competitor?”

“I wouldn't call it a competition. Padme was at 88.7% in the polls when she died. Palpatine had 9.2% and the other nominee 2.1%. She was set to win in a landslide.”

“And some people didn't like that,” Luke mumbled. He frowned at the marble statue, the woman’s stone curls glinting in the sun. The monument was in the open air, surrounded by green trees and colorful flowers. You didn't see many plants in Coruscant, what with the paved streets and few parks. Whoever designed this monument must’ve had to work for the pure life oozing from each corner.

He shivered, an unsettling feeling overcoming him. “Did they ever find the assassin who…” he turned to glance at Han and Leia, but the couple had disappeared. His brow furrowed in confusion until a brown haired, green eyed man about his age stepped over to him with a hesitant smile on his face.

“Your friends went to take a picture,” he said, motioning towards Leia and Han, who were standing in front of the statue holding up peace signs. “I thought they told you?”

“Oh,” Luke stepped back, a sheepish smile crookedly crossing his face. “Uh, they probably did. I guess I was pretty zoned out.”

“I get that,” the boy shrugged, glancing up at the statue towering over them. “Her story is _not_ a fun one.”

“It’s sad,” Luke observed. “Is it true that President Palpatine killed her?”

“It hasn't been confirmed.”

“Well, what do you think?”

The look the boy gave Luke told him all he needed to know. “Either way, she wasn't the only one lost in the incident.”

“No?”

“She was driving a car when it happened. She swerved off the side of the road, and killed her husband as well, who had been in the passenger's seat. Apparently, she was pregnant, too. With twins, according to some people.”

“ _No._ ”

“I told you, her story is _not_ a fun one.”

“What was her life like beforehand?” Luke asked. Oddly enough, he felt a strange sense of kinship with this woman, though she was old enough to be his mother.

“She was popular with the people. An honest politician, as few and far between as those are. She was rich, too. Worked for her money, worked hard. I think her family even owned a private island at one point, though they may have sold it after her… untimely demise.”

“Wow,” Luke gaped. A private island probably cost more money than Luke would ever see throughout his entire life.

“Yeah,” the boy chuckled. “I'm Zev, by the way. Zevulon Veers.”

“Nice to meet you,” Luke said with a blush, holding out a hand. Zev grasped it, shaking it once and holding on for what could be deemed as longer than necessary. “I'm Luke Skywalker.”

“What brings you here?”

“A class trip. We’re from Tatooine.”

“Tatooine? I've never heard of it.”

“I'm not surprised. If there's a bright center of the universe, Tatooine is the town that’s farthest from.”

Zev laughed at Luke’s sarcastic comment and said, “That sounds nice. There are days when I wish I could get away from the… concentrated nature of Coruscant.”

“Maybe we should switch lives for a day,” Luke prompted. “I’ll live in the city and you can try out life as a country boy.”

Zev snorted. “I'm sure my father would have his qualms about that.”

“Are your parents strict?”

“My father is, yes. We lost my mother a while ago, and it’s been him, me, and my sister ever since.”

“I'm sorry for your loss.”

“It was years ago. But I'm glad to have my sister; we can support each other when times are hard.”

Luke smiled wistfully. He wished he had a sister. He felt close to Leia; when they met, it was as if the two were long-lost twins. But that concept was ridiculous. They were both only children, and while they sometimes felt like siblings, they were raised as anything but. “I'm glad you have each other,” he said before changing the subject. “I have strict parents, too. Well, guardians, actually. My uncle doesn't ever want me to leave Tatooine.”

“No? Well, you’ve left now, haven't you?”

“Yeah, on a supervised school trip. Besides, even this took him hours of convincing. And my aunt’s great, but Uncle Owen doesn't listen to her. Not when it comes to me.”

“I guess he’s just trying to protect you.”

“He has my best interests at heart,” Luke agreed. His attention was crudely yanked away from Zev when Wes shouted to him, beckoning him over to the statue for a large group photo. Luke cringed and glanced at Zev apologetically. “It was nice meeting you!”

Zev nodded. “You too, blondie.”

Luke’s face flushed and looked away, hurrying over to his friends. When he hesitantly glanced back at Zev, he found the brunette staring after him. Zev shot him and wink and turned on his heel, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaving the monument.

“Say cheese!” beamed the tourist Leia had recruited to take their picture. Luke clenched his teeth together tightly and smiled at the camera.

“Cheese!” he called out distantly, his mind elsewhere. He let his eyes meander up to stare at the statue, the unsettled feeling creeping over him again.

There was something about Padme Amidala’s story that struck a chord deep within him. Luke knew it would be difficult to stop the note from playing in his mind.

________

Wes, Wedge, and Hobbie were elbowing one another in amusement. They whispered between one another, ignoring Luke’s suspicious gaze.

“What have you done?” he asked, plopping his sub on the table the group of four was clustered around.

“Nothing!” they protested in unison, far too quickly. Luke’s eyes narrowed. They were all sitting at lunch, munching on sandwiches and subs at a small restaurant down the street from a group of giant townhouses. Wedge, Wes, and Hobbie couldn't have done anything without Luke seeing them, but he had a feeling that they were planning something.

“What have you done?” he asked again. “Or what are you planning to do?”

“It's nothing,” Wedge shrugged guiltily.

“Alright,” Luke sighed, convincing them that he was giving in. After a pause, he snapped, “And the truth, before I lose my temper.”

Wes snorted, desperate to hold back a laugh. “Ok, teddy bear.”

Luke glared at him, but was distracted when Hobbie told him, “After lunch, we’re going to have a half hour to wander the streets, so the three of us are going to ding-dong-ditch some stuck-up rich dudes! Wanna come with?”

Luke frowned. “ _Ding-dong-ditching_? That’s your big plan? Surely you can come up with something better than that.”

“We wanna mess with rich people,” Wes whined, “and we don't wanna spend money on eggs and toilet paper to throw at their houses, so we’re just going to ding-dong-ditch them!”

“You do know that some of these people probably have security systems, right? You’ll get caught.”

“It’s not like ding-dong-ditching is a crime,” Wedge shrugged. “I was hesitant, too, but we could do so much worse.”

“You could also do _so much better_.”

“This is why we didn't tell you,” Wes whined. “We knew you wouldn't be down.”

“I never said I wasn't down for it!” he said defensively.

“You didn't have to,” Hobbie sighed. “Look, dude, we’ll never be in Coruscant again, probably. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“We could get arrested for trespassing, our school could be forced to cancel any trips here in the near future, we could ruin this for everyone--"

“Wow, I forgot how dark your mind gets,” Wes exclaimed. “Don't immediately look at the negative. We’ll be _fine!_ ”

________

They were _not_ fine. The first two houses went smoothly, and they were met with no answer. When they reached the third house, however, Luke was hit by an overwhelming sense of dread. The house, kindly speaking, was a monster.

The siding was dark grey, with black highlights along the windowsills and surrounding each door. There were four doors, of course, one leading to a balcony on the third floor of the house, two standing on the front porch, and another on the side of a steeple, leading onto the roof of the house. Speaking of, the solid black shingles that covered the roof of the house seemed to block out the sun, keeping the home in a perpetual shadow. There was one circular tower on the left hand corner of the house, the cylinder steeple stretching into the air. Of course, lining the roof were curved, flower-like spikes just in front of the (also black) gutter. Beside the house were several more cheerful, modern looking homes that made the black building look like the house from Despicable Me.

Luke already didn't want to do this, but the villainous air surrounding the dark house made him seriously rethink his actions.

“Guys… are we sure about this one?” he asked the group hesitantly.

The other three were clearly unnerved by the threatening house, but shook their heads. “We can't chicken out now,” Wes laughed awkwardly.

“Do you always use humor to cope with your insecurities?” Wedge asked snappily, wringing his hands together.

“Do you always use your dream of being a psychiatrist to cope with fear?” Wes clapped back.

“Everyone chill,” Hobbie hushed them. “It’s just a house.”

“I’m not worried about the house, I’m worried about whoever’s inside,” Luke defended himself.

“Seriously, Hobbie, if you’re so fearless, you go ring the bell!” Wedge exclaimed.

Hobbie sighed, his shoulders tense. “Fine,” he snapped, trudging up the steps of the porch, hurrying to reach the door. Quickly, he rang the bell, silencing a few quiet, but serious, voices coming from the open window. He ran down the stairs and hurried to crouch behind a gate next to Luke. Wes and Wedge were slumped beside them on the sturdy wooden fence.

“Shh!” he snapped, silencing the group's hushed whispers. “There was someone inside.”

Luke's eyes widened as a tall, sandy blonde-haired man clad in an all black business suit stepped out onto the porch, eyes, gazing angrily around the front lawn. Luke and the rest of the group were hidden by the wooden fence, but their shoes must’ve been visible to the greying man, because his gaze narrowed in on their place behind the gate of the fence.

“Where do I know him from?” he mumbled quietly to Hobbie, who was shaking in his shoes.

“I don't know, Luke, but shut the hell up!” he hissed back. “He’ll hear us!”

“But--"

“Shh!”

“Alright, guys,” Wes mumbled after thirty seconds passed, “on the count of three, we run. One… two…”

Before Wes could hit three, the gate swung open, and Wes and Wedge watched as Luke and Hobbie toppled onto the feet of the tall, hulking figure that had left the dark house. He stared at the two, thoroughly unimpressed. “I don't suppose you make it a habit to trespass on private property… do you?”

Hobbie, Wes, and Wedge leapt to their feet, racing away from the man. They wouldn't realize that they had left Luke in the dust until they reached the end of the street… and by then it would be too late.

Luke stared up at the giant man, his blue eyes wide. He had seen that face before, somewhere. “Do I know you?”

The man scoffed and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him back towards the door of the house. “A word, please?”

“Hey!” Luke protested lightly, dragging his feet as the stranger pulled him up the steps of the porch. “You can’t—”

“I can, and I am,” the man sighed. He sounded angry and bored, as if Luke had inconvenienced him simply by existing. “Clearly your parents never taught you manners.”

“Hard to do that from six feet under,” Luke muttered as he was dragged through the house to the door of a small office area.

Vader paused for a moment, glancing down at Luke with sympathy in his eyes, but the moment passed and he had to wonder if he had imagined its existence in the first place.

Vader shoved Luke through the door of the office, herding him towards an expensive leather chair in the corner. There were two other men in the office, both of which were sitting at matching chairs in front of a large oak desk. The smaller man eyed him with a tired and pitying look in his eyes, as if this was a normal occurrence. The other man just ignored him, already bored with his presence.

When the strangers stayed silent about Luke’s impromptu abduction, he decided to speak up for himself. “Uhm, I have to be back with the rest of my class in like fifteen mi—“

“Perhaps you should have contemplated that before rudely interrupting my meeting,” he snapped.

“I’m sorry, but—“

“Sir, if I may,” the smaller man sighed. “Another one of these painfully frequent interactions won’t do much to boost your popularity in the political circles.”

 _Another?_ Luke thought. How many people had ding-dong-ditched the wrong house?

The other man snorted in amusement, just raising a brow at the uncomfortable situation. “Firmus has a point,” he said, his voice stern. “News of Vice President Vader roughly chastising a child will not bode well for Palpatine’s re-election.”

“Vice President?” Luke gaped.

“I believe that is how you ‘know me’, as you put it, young one,” Vader said, the term of (endearment? mild frustration and love?) slipping from his lips, seemingly accidentally. The VP cringed, and Luke thought back to the odd, empathetic look he had given him just before they stepped into the office.

“No, that’s not it,” Luke said simply with a shake of his head. “I don’t really care for politics.”

The smaller man—Firmus— gaped at him, the larger one raised an amused eyebrow, and Vader’s neutral, if slightly perturbed, expression shifted with anger. “This country runs on politics,” he spoke quickly and angrily, but Luke felt as if he didn’t believe the words falling from his own lips. “Your life would change irrevocably without them.”

Luke frowned. “You don’t really think that, though. At least, you don’t sound like you do…”

“How on _Earth_ would you know what I sound like, you rude child?”

“I was raised by conservative farmers from the south. I’m a democrat, at least I think I am, so we disagree a lot. I know what it sounds like when people really believe something. That wasn’t it. You can try again, though, I do have fifteen minutes.”

The larger man looked impressed, and Firmus was worried. Vader seemed shocked for half a second before his face slid into an emotionless mask. “You do not know what you speak of, boy. You don’t know me.”

“Right,” Luke glanced towards the door. “I really should be going. I’m here on a school trip, and—”

“Clearly your school is far too lenient. You and your foolish little friends were allowed to run rampant around the city without any regard for the citizens’ daily activities. Clearly you must be taught a lesson.”

Luke's body tensed up with fear, any adrenaline and confusion angled towards Vader being replaced with worry. “You can’t do anything to me,” he insisted, more to himself than to Vader. “You’re the Vice President. You’re so far in the public eye, there’s no way to escape from it.”

Vader raised a judgemental eyebrow. “Politicians always find a way.”

Luke held back a whimper. Vader leaned against his desk, knuckles turning slightly white from the pressure of his body weight. Luke stood slowly, edging towards the door. “I should really be heading out.”

“I’m sure you can wait a moment, can you not?” Vader shot back.

The tense feeling humming in the air was intensified when the doorbell rang. Vader growled and marched towards the door, snatching Luke’s wrist and pulling him along.

He stomped down the hall, ripped open the door, and barked, “What?” into the face of one very pissed off Mon Mothma. The teacher was standing in front of Han, Lando, Wes, Wedge, and Hobbie, who were lingering on the other side of the gate. She balked for a moment, clearly recognizing the VP at first glance, but she sharply recovered.

“I would like my student back, please,” she said simply. “And I would like to formally apologize for the actions of his friend group. I will keep a better handle on them next time.”

Vader glared at her. “There won’t _be_ a next time,” he said, pushing Luke out the door.

“Of course,” Mothma nodded. “Again, my sincerest apologies.”

“Apology accepted,” he replied coldly. Mothma turned to lead Luke down the stairs, hurrying over to the other students. Vader watched them go, slowly closing the door behind him…

… only to be interrupted by Leia’s screeched reprimand of, “Luke Anakin Skywalker, what the hell did you think you were doing?”

Vader stopped in his tracks, staring after the slowly leaving group, watching the boy—Luke, _his_ Luke—slowly leave the premises. “I’m sorry,” he groaned. “I was just—”

“Do you say ‘Skywalker’?” Vader questioned loudly. like whipped around to look back at him, confusion crossing his face. Mothma turned with him, more angry than confused. Luke was in for a reprimand from the woman, of that Vader was certain, but he had more important things on his mind than teachers and trespassing. “As in Anakin Skywalker?”

Luke bit his lip. “He was my father. Did you know him?”

Vader deflated in relief. For a moment, he was concerned he had merely gotten his hopes up yet again; that this boy was not, in fact, his son.

But he was.

And dammit all to hell if Vader wasn’t going to celebrate the hell out of that.

________________

“I’m confused,” Luke muttered. He, Vader, Mothma, and the men from before, Firmus Piett and Maximilian Veers (when Luke was given his name, he wondered if he had heard it before, but the shocking nature of his situation distracted him from that _real_ fast), were sitting in Vader’s study, listening to the man’s explanation. “You’re saying you were in a coma?”

“Yes,” Vader nodded in confirmation.

“And so when I was born, I somehow got… lost?”

“It would seem so.”

“Which is why I grew up in Tatooine instead of with you?”

“Indeed, young one.”

“And the only reason you figured this out is because you, somehow, heard my friend yell at me for ding-dong-ditching your house?”

“The unlikelihood of this is not lost on me.”

“All due respect, Mr. Vice President,” Mothma cut in, “it would be much easier to believe this tale of yours if we could find proof of your name change.”

“You believe I would lie to my own son?” Vader asked, enraged.

Luke flinched, but said, “How do I know I'm your son?”

Vader sent him a slightly betrayed, but understanding look. “Very well.”

He walked over to his desk and grabbed a small figurine from the corner, sliding open a hidden latch at the bottom. Out of the small container dropped a skeleton key, old and weathered with age. He used the key to open the bottom drawer on the left hand side and pulled out a large stack of papers, all held together with staples and a _lot_ of paperclips.

“Here you are,” he said, handing the stack to Mon Mothma. “The papers needed in order to change my name from Anakin Skywalker to Darth Vader. As you can see, they’re all incredibly valid.”

“I was under the impression,” Mothma spoke slowly as she eyed the papers skeptically, “that Anakin Skywalker died with Padme Amidala.”

“He did,” Vader snapped back. “I became another person on that day. I was unaware, though, that my son survived. Had I known, young one, I would not have hesitated to take you from that dreadful town of which you grew in.”

Luke flushed, looking down at the floor. It was nice to know he was wanted, but… hard to believe it was real. “How did you hide it? Most politicians are _very_ bad at keeping their secrets. How did you do it?”

“It was quite simple,” Veers cut in with a shrug, attempting to seem unphased by the circumstances. “President Palpatine ensured that the records were sealed. By all legal accounts, Anakin Skywalker is dead. Darth Vader was born the day he died. Anyone saying otherwise had been quickly silenced.”

Luke flinched. “Is that _ethical_? I mean, you’re kind of our Vice President.”

“I _am_ your Vice President. And it is merely a secret,” Vader said defensively. “Many politicians have kept worse things hidden.”

“Worse than a false identity?” Luke asked. He was met with a sharp glare from Vader and an exasperated glance from Piett, which prompted him to change the subject. “So then, is my mother really dead?”

“Indeed,” Vader said mournfully. “As is, I believe, your twin sister.”

Luke sat back, thoroughly stumped. “And you never heard about me, because…?”

“My guess would be bad book keeping and stupidity,” Piett cut in. “After he became certain of Padme’s death, your father decided to fake his own.”

“Why do you two know this?”

“I'm Vice President Vader’s bodyguard,” Veers shrugged. “Piett is the man’s campaign advisor. We are, perhaps, the only two who know, outside of President Palpatine and now, you.”

“Right… and since you serve the man, I'm guessing Palpatine _didn't_ kill my mother?”

Vader smashed his fist on the oak desk, glaring at Luke with pure, unbridled anger. “Do not fall prey to that lie as the rest of the country has!” he snapped. “Palpatine is a good man.”

 _Palpatine has been in office for 17 years_ , Luke thought. _That’s against the law; Presidents can only serve for 8 years. He’s power hungry and practically a dictator, not to mention anything_ but _a good man._ Not wanting to stir the pot, he stayed silent.

Vader sighed at his son’s quiet demeanor and shifted his gaze to Mothma, changing the subject. “I'm sure you will allow me to keep Luke here, for the time being.”

Mothma’s face remained stonily blank. She practically had a better politician face than Vader. “I'm sure you understand that while you are his father, his legal guardians must be contacted about this matter.”

Vader held back an angry growl, knowing it would frighten Luke, more so than he already had. “Very well,” he said stiffly with a nod. “If I may have a word with Luke in private?”

Mothma’s eyes narrowed and she turned to Luke. “Only if you feel comfortable.”

Luke smiled nervously. “Uh, yeah! It’s fine.”

“Very well, then,” she stood up and walked to the door, resting a hand on Luke’s shoulder before she left. “You can leave at any moment you feel unsafe.”

“He won't,” Vader replied coldly. Mothma just gave him a Look™ and left, nodding once at Luke before doing so. After she was gone, Veers sighed and he and Piett stood to their feet.

“I'll be right outside,” Veers told Vader as he swept out of the room.

“It was nice meeting you,” Piett told Luke with a smile.

Luke grinned back at him. “You too.”

The two left, shutting the door gently behind them. Luke looked down to study the shoelaces of his old Adidas sneakers. The sneakers themselves were white and green, but the laces had turned greyish brown after years of wear and tear. Luke tapped his toes together, waiting for Vader to speak.

The man was silent for a while, taking Luke in with questioning eyes. “This must be so weird for you,” Luke observed, his eyes still aimed at the hardwood floor.

Vader sighed, dropping into the leather chair behind his desk. “‘Weird’ would be one word for it. It must be even odder for you.”

Luke silently nodded, not daring to voice his thoughts. He didn't want to tell Vader how he was overwhelmed with joy, but was plagued with worry that the rug would be pulled out from under him. That he would be nothing but a disappointing stain to Vader’s reputation. The Vice President was well-known for his stern nature, but ultimately more popular than the president himself. Luke, a country boy with no experience in politics or social pageantry, wouldn't do much to pull Vader up in the world. Surely that was all the man wanted. Vader didn't seem like the type of person to be overjoyed by a gay farmboy of a long-lost son.

Luke stayed quiet, wondering how long it would take for Vader to tire of him. Wondering when the ‘long-lost son’ bit would be worn out in the political circles of Coruscant City. Wondering when the chance of having a dad would be taken from him.

“You’re seventeen now, correct?” Vader asked, pulling him out of his abysmal thoughts.

“Uh, yeah,” Luke nodded. “My birthday was--"

“Five months ago,” Vader finished. “I know.”

Luke nodded silently and waited for the man to continue. When he didn't, Luke sighed and asked, “How long will this last?”

Vader frowned. “What do you mean?”

Luke shook his head. “Uh, it's nothing.”

“If you’re insinuating that I will tire of you, young one, do not count on it.”

“I know how politics work. Well, I don't really, but I know how this will work. You’ll flaunt me around, use me to gain popularity, and then dump me on the street once that initial awe fades away.”

Vader gaped at him for a second before his expression grew enraged. “You certainly cannot think so negatively of yourself!”

Luke looked away, gazing out a window on the other side of the room. “You’re the Vice President of an entire country. I've seen all that Palpatine does, how flawed his beliefs and actions are. People like you more than him, and you’re his crutch in the world. You’re not perfect, clearly, but you keep him afloat and defend his poor decisions. I’m just something you’ll use to boost yourself up in the world, and then you’ll ship me back to Tatooine so I’m out of your hair.”

Vader shook his head, protesting vehemently. “That is _not_ true. Who told you such a thing?”

Luke shook his head. “You don’t want me. Not really.”

“Nothing you could tell me about yourself could make me not want you.”

“I’m a moody teenager.”

“Your mother and I once fostered a girl by the name of Ahsoka. I have practice.”

“I’m not into super fancy dinners and fake politicians.”

“That would make two of us.”

“I want to graduate from Alliance High.”

Vader pauses, frown marring his features. “Tatooine is eight hours away. Besides, you are deserving of a far more advanced education.”

Luke shook his head. “I’m graduating from Alliance High. I’m not going off to some prissy-pants boarding school.”

“I would not send you away.”

 _Because you need me here for the attention,_ Luke held back the urge to snap. Instead, he told Vader, “I’m graduating from Alliance High. Obviously I want out of Tatooine—”

“Certainly. Who would wish to stay there?”

“—but I want to graduate with my friends.”

Vader sighed. “Very well, then. I’m sure we could arrange for you to fly to Coruscant on the weekends.”

Luke balked. “A plane ride every weekend?! That sounds insanely expensive.”

“Money is not an issue.”

Luke’s insides churned at the dismissive statement, but he pushed away the discomfort and continued on. “We can work that out later. Anyways, just because you accept all of that doesn’t mean you actually accept me.”

“There is not one thing about you that I will not accept.”

“I’m gay.”

Vader raised a silent eyebrow. “Truly? That’s your greatest argument?”

“Wha—”

“Your sexuality is no concern to me, young one. Your personality is what matters most. Though it would seem as if you could do with some etiquette lessons if you frequently ‘ding-dong-ditch’ unsuspecting citizens.”

Luke winced, but got the distinct feeling that Vader was joking around with him. “Was that a joke?”

Vader shot him an amused smile and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a loud knock on the door.

“What?” Vader snapped as Mothma stepped into the room, phone in hand.

“Luke, it’s your uncle,” she said, handing him the phone.

Luke winced. This would be fun. He tentatively took the phone, holding it up to his ear. “Hey, Uncle Owen,” he laughed. “So, funny story…”

_________

Luke went to Coruscant every weekend.

At first, he was hesitant to make it a regular thing. It took a while for his worries and insecurities surrounding Vader and his social standing to fade away. But a month passed, and then two, and suddenly things were a lot easier.

Vader had decided to keep Luke secret for a month. When Luke gave Vader the all-clear, he announced his true identity to the press, and Luke was claimed as his legitimate heir. Of course, this resulted in Luke gaining a better understanding of the… sheer volume of Vader’s wealth.

“You're a _millionaire_?!” he had exclaimed the day he found out, jumping to his feet and startling the table of lawyers, Veers, who was sitting beside his father, just leaned back in his seat, thoroughly unimpressed by .

“Indeed, young one,” Vader had said cautiously. “I did not think you would react so harshly.”

“ _Harshly?!_ ”

Needless to say, that was an interesting conversation.

Most of their conversations were. As time flew by and the school year ended, the two grew more comfortable around one another. Luke wasn't afraid to disagree and debate with his father, and Vader didn't walk on eggshells around his son any longer. They talked about anything from Luke’s friend to Vader’s life before politics. When Luke mentioned Leia to Vader for the first time, he perked up and seemed to be waiting for Luke to mention something else about the girl. Whatever he wanted Luke to say never passed Luke's lips, so Luke left his reaction to mystery.

After two months had passed, and the spring turned to summer, Luke was invited to his first ever charity banquet. It was then, of course, that shit hit the fan.

________

“I really don't know about this,” he persisted, wringing his hands together anxiously. Vader sighed in understanding. The father-son duo were standing in the entrance hall of Vader’s townhouse in Mustafar, a tropical city far south of Coruscant. Piett had hesitantly told him (because Vader never wished to speak of his mother) that Padme was campaigning in Mustafar when she was assassinated. Luke had asked Piett if he thought Palpatine had done it. The man didn't answer him.

“Events such as this can be nerve-wracking,” Vader nodded. “Thankfully, though, this event is much smaller than many others I've attended this year. There should only be 78 people in attendance, excluding ourselves.”

“Right,” Luke nodded hysterically. “ _Only_.”

“I will do my best to stay beside you throughout the entire night, though it may be required for you to go off on your own at some point.”

“Uh-huh. Great. We’re going to be stuck there for five hours, right?”

“Yes, young one. Take a deep breath. This could be enjoyable, if you allow it to be.”

Luke sighed. Normally, he did enjoy being social. But when it came to white-collar aristocrats drinking champagne and gossiping about people Luke had never heard of, he’d rather not be involved. “Is it enjoyable for you?”

“No,” Vader replied shortly. “But that is simply because I have obligations to socialize with those I would rather not speak with. You, on the other hand, can pick and choose your battles.”

“I thought you said you’d stay by my side all night?”

“I was unsure if you would wish for… personal space. We will be seated together at the banquet, but in the hour before we eat we needn’t be attached at the hip.”

Luke grinned at the poorly-hidden concern in Vader’s tone. “Don't worry, I can take care of myself.”

“I have many doubts about that, young one. Need I remind you of the day you locked yourself out of the house and climbed the drain pipe to reach your open window?”

“It was raining, I had to get inside somehow!”

“It was foolish and dangerous of you to commit to such a stunt!”

“I'm fine, it’s not like I couldn't do it--”

“By some miracle, you didn't slip off the wet gutter and break your neck, but you so easily could have!”

Luk sighed. “ _Regardless_ , I'm sure I'll be fine. It’s not like we’re going to some assassin’s house. Besides, I'm probably going to stick by you most of the time.”

Vader sighed, reaching forward to straighten Luke’s collar. “Very well, young one. Come, now; we mustn’t be any later than what is acceptable.”

Luke nodded, mentally preparing himself for the gruelling five hours that were sure to come. He walked with his father down the steps of the red brick townhouse, greeting Veers as he passed. The bodyguard helped them into the towncar waiting by the sidecar and then slid into the driver's seat, peeling off down the road.

“To Boba Fett’s mansion, Veers,” Vader reminded him. Veers nodded in response, making a left-hand turn at the end of the street.

Luke sighed, desperate to expel his nerves. It wasn't like they were going to an assassin’s house.

________

Luke sighed, resisting the urge to drop to the floor and hide under a table. The socialites surrounding him were all eager to get to know the Vice President's long-lost son, and by now Luke had repeated the story of how they met so many times that the words didn't even seem real anymore.

“Would you like to dance?” asked Mara Jade, a redheaded girl on Palpatine’s staff that hated the gathering as much as Luke did.

“Gladly,” he said and took her hand, eager to escape from the questioning eyes of those surrounding him. They slid into a slow waltz, the dance floor around them nearly empty save for a few other couples.

Mara sighed, eying up a girl that danced past them. “She's cute,” she said, nodding to the girl.

Luke shrugged, not sparing her a second glance. “Not my thing.”

“How about her cute boyfriend?”

Luke glanced over to the boy, his eyes widening in recognition. “Wanna switch partners?” he asked Mara.

She raised an eyebrow. “Of course!”

Mara slid over to the two dancers, tapping the girl on the shoulder. Luke watched on as she talked to the duo, pointing over to Luke in explanation. He awkwardly waved at the familiar boy, cringing at the girl’s questioning expression. After a moment, Mara slipped her arm around the girl’s waist, pulling her close and nudging the boy towards Luke. He watched as the brunette walked over to him smugly. “Figured I’d see you again, blondie,” the boy smirked.

“Hey, Zev,” Luke replied with a shy smile. “What’re you doing here?”

Zev shrugged, glancing behind Luke at Veers and Vader. “My father’s a bodyguard for _your_ father, apparently. He wanted me and my sister out of the house for once.”

“Oh! That’s where I heard the name Veers. When I first met my father, just a bit after I met you, I saw your father and thought I recognized his name. I got a bit… distracted before I could give it any thought, though.”

“‘When I first met my father.’ That sentence will never not be weird.”

“My _life_ will never not be weird, to be honest. So he dragged you here?” Luke inferred.

“Yep. I'm assuming the same thing happened to you?”

“Uh, I was invited by that Boba Fett guy. Palpatine decided that it wouldn't look great if I declined my first invitation. My father agreed, I guess.”

“You don't seem to mind too much…”

“The social aspect of it is fine. The uppity aristocrats, on the other hand…”

Zev tilted his head back and laughed. “Well, would you allow this _uppity aristocrat_ to have a dance?” he asked, offering Luke a hand.

Luke held back a giggle and nodded, letting Zev pull him around the dance floor.

________

“It's nice to have a breather,” he sighed, leaning against the balcony. Zev hummed in agreement. They had been standing in silence on the balcony for the past half hour or so, taking in the stars surrounding the city. Mustafar’s light pollution was making it difficult, but a few blinking lights were visible through the haze.

“Many of the people my father agrees with are… unfavorable,” Zev nodded. “He's understanding of left-wingers, even agreeable sometimes, but he’s a conservative through and through.”

Luke winced in understanding. “My father’s the same. We can talk about it, though. Civilly, without someone getting their hand chopped off.”

Zev snorted. “That makes one of us.”

Luke sighed, sparing a moment to glance down at his watch. When he caught sight of the time, he elbowed Zev worriedly. “Didn't the banquet officially start twenty minutes ago?”

Zev blinked, checking his own watch. “Oh, shit. Uh, you know what? Its fine. We’ll just sneak back in.”

Luke nodded, hurrying over to the closed glass doors of the balcony. He attempted to yank one open, but was met with a startling amount of resistance. “It's locked.”

“Try the other door.”

Luke did, but shook his head at the results. “This one’s locked too.”

“No, they were both open when we came out!”

“Well, they aren't anymore!”

Zev tried the doors himself, groaning in dismay when neither opened. “Someone must’ve forgotten we were out here.”

“I don't think that’s it…” Luke sighed, eyes travelling upwards to look at a rusty vent that had been blowing hot air on them throughout the night.

Zev frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I don't know. Just a feeling.” Luke shook himself out of his stupor, glancing around below the balcony. On the right hand side was a drain pipe, which, of course, caught Luke’s eye. “Got any experience climbing drain pipes?”

Zev raised a brow. “Obviously.”

Luke beamed at him, nodding to the gutter. Zev raised a brow, and Luke had to wonder how on Earth he had missed Veers’ and his relationship. The two looked exactly alike, excluding Veers Sr.’s light brown eyes.

Zev walked across the balcony to reach the rain gutter, grabbing on tightly and swinging a leg around the railing of the balcony to reach the white plastic gutter. He leaned down, scouting out the floors below them.

“There’s an open window one floor down,” he called out to Luke as he shimmied down the drain pipe. He kicked out with his foot, nudging the window open as he dropped into the large room.

Luke slid down after him, reaching out a hand for Zev to yank him through the tall window. He stumbled onto the hardwood floors, a touch lightheaded. “Woah,” he mumbled to himself, leaning on Zev for support. Zev blinked a couple times, as if fighting the urge to fall asleep.

“You alright?” he asked.

Luke nodded, shaking away the blank spots behind his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “What is this place?”

The room was dark, the only light coming from the city around them. The moon was entering a new cycle, so it didn't help them much. From what Luke could see, there was a closed door on the far side of the room, highlighted with a line of light underneath the door frame. The faint outline of boxes were stacked throughout the room, the kind that hold case files in all those murder drama series on TV. About six feet in front of the window was a large shape, most likely a desk, with a chair behind it.

Zev shook his head in the dark. “I don’t know. But c’mon, we should get back to the banquet hall.”

Luke hesitated, but ultimately followed Zev towards the door. On the way, however, he bumped into the desk, not seeing the sharp corner in the dark. “Ow!” he exclaimed, already feeling a bruise form on his hip.

Papers cascaded to the floor, and Zev winced. “I should’ve used my flashlight.”

“No reason not to use it now,” Luke groaned.

Zev whipped out his phone and clicked on his flashlight, bending down with Luke to sift through the papers that had fallen onto the ground. When Luke had hit the desk, he had upturned a file box, spilling it’s contents out onto the floor.

They hurried to place the files back in, worrying, for a moment, over the organization. Luke shoved a load of papers into the box, reaching for another when Zev said, “Hey… isn't Padme Amidala your mom’s name?”

Luke frowned, turning back to him. “Yeah… what about it?”

Zev waved a file in the air. “This has her name written all over it.”

Luke stepped over to Zev and took the file from his hands. It was a pale manilla file folder, with the name ‘Amidala, Padme’ written on a small tab on the side. Zev held the iPhone flashlight up for him to better see the file, and slowly, Luke opened the dusty papers, brow creasing at what he saw.

“Bank statements,” Zev observed. “A withdrawal of $50,000 from one account...”

“And a deposit of $50,000 to another,” Luke noticed. “December 31st, 2003.”

“The day Padme Amidala was murdered.”

________

Two hours later, Zev and Luke emerged from the room with files in hand, victorious looks spreading across their faces. They rushed down the hall, searching for a staircase, and (after ten minutes of running frantically around the mansion) burst into the banquet hall in a flurry of desperation and Skywalker-typical dramatics.

Those occupying the banquet hall were sitting around several large tables, conversing cordially between one another. Luke caught sight of Vader, nervously gazing around the hall as if he was searching for someone. _Me_ , Luke realized. _He’s looking for me!_

He knew that his father loved him, now, but when they first met it was difficult to believe that he ever would. But here Vader was, worriedly looking for a boy he had known for two months.

It made Luke feel warm and fuzzy things.

He caught Vader’s eye, nodding to him one. The man made to stand up, but Luke shook his head. Not yet.

“Boba Fett,” Luke called across the hall to the host, who was sitting at the head table beside Vader. “A word?”

“Luke!” Vader called quietly, getting to his feet. “What is the meaning of this?”

Luke flinched. He could hear the concern in his tone, but the words were chastising. “WE have something you might want to see.”

Wordlessly, Zev and Luke made their way to the front of the room and dropped the files in front of Boba Fett, triumph visible in their gazes.

“You see,” Zev sighed, “someone locked us on the balcony. We didn't want to be late--”

“You didn't succeed,” Veers Sr. snapped, anger warring concern in his voice.

“--so we scaled the drain pipe and popped into a room right under this one.”

“Again?” Vader murmured to himself. Luke ignored him.

Boba flinched for a second, before his face went slate blank. “You went through my things?”

“Not at first,” Luke deadpanned with a shake of his head. “But I'm clumsy, and the room was dark. I bumped into a desk--ow, by the way--and this fell out of a box. We didn't want to be rude and leave your things scattered over the floor, so… we picked things up.”

“Which is when I saw the file titled ‘Amidala, Padme.’ Luke was curious, I mean, it had his mother’s name on it, after all, and took a look at the file. Sure enough, we found a few… _interesting_ things inside. Bank withdrawals and deposits from the day Amidala was murdered, mission details, weapon identifications…”

“It wasn't too hard to figure out what that meant. I have to admit, Father, that I was wrong. We _are_ at an assassin’s house.”

Boba stared at him for a moment, before dissolving into worried laughter. “Vice President Vader,” he sighed. “Control your mutt.”

Luke winced. Here comes fun.

Vader slowly turned to Fett, who was still seated. “Would you repeat that, please?”

“I said,” he snapped, “control. Your. Mutt.”

Vader abruptly stood, snatching the papers off of the table, leafing through them slowly. “I must admit, Fett… I once believed I could admire you. You're a hard worker, mostly honest, and unafraid to do what you must. A shame that you’ve made such grievous errors in your past. Veers?”

“Yes, sir?” Veers stepped up.

“Call the authorities. I do believe we’ve found my wife’s murderer.”

“That’s not all we’ve found,” Zev said, his tone odd. He held back a yawn, shook his head, and said, “The bank account that gave him the money was registered to Steven A. Phalpive. Which is an anagram for--”

“--Sheev Palpatine,” Vader cut him off with a harsh growl.

“Yeah,” Zev nodded. “But there's someone else.”

“Who?”

“We don't know,” Luke blinked tiredly. “The same accounts made a withdrawal and deposit just recently, according to the other folder. But there's no name, so… we, uh… we…”

Luke frowned, rubbing his eyes. Zev blinked, and said, “We don't know who Palpatine’s targeting next.”

Luke nodded. “Yeah. Woah!” he stumbled, grabbing onto Zev’s arm. “I'm really dizzy…”

He blinked a couple times, swaying on his feet, before his eyes rolled back in his head and everything went dark.

________

“Carbon monoxide…” he heard someone say. The voice sounded far away, as if someone was speaking from underwater. “... could be… not treated… result in death…”

Luke blinked, groaning. “What’s going on?” he tried to ask. The words that came out sounded more like ‘Wa gin in?’.

He heard a panicked voice speak above him, but couldn't make out the words. Then he felt something grip his hand tightly. He tried to squeeze back. It was nice not to feel alone.

Luke faded into unconsciousness again, unsure if he’d ever wake back up.

________

He did. Which was good. Quite frankly, Luke didn't know what his father would do if he hadn't.

Apparently, he had carbon monoxide poisoning from the vent above the balcony. Zev did, too, and was in a hospital room next to Luke’s. They talked through the paper thin walls, occasionally wheeling themselves out to the hall to talk face to face.

The carbon monoxide poisoning wasn't accidental, though. Palpatine had seen Vader’s steadily increasing popularity and was desperate to tear him down a peg. He was worried Vader was planning to take his place as President; a legitimate fear, considering that Vader was currently serving a term due to Palpatine’s incarceration.

So now Luke, who had moved all of his things to Vader’s Coruscant home for the summer, had to move everything into the White House.

Fun.

He was set to stay in the hospital for another three days, having already spent two in the boring building. Zev was leaving in just a day, his body having reacted better to the gas that Boba Fett had gotten into the vent above the balcony after locking the two on the ledge. Finally, though, Vader deemed him ready for visitors other than himself. Which, unfortunately, led to Luke’s current situation.

“I just can't believe you’d be so stupid!” Leia fumed, arms crossed over her chest.

“I found my mother’s killer!” Luke exclaimed.

“Yes, by snooping around the secret room of an assassin. Surely, you didn't think that was safe?”

“I didn't _know_ he was an assassin--”

“No, but you realized it after you saw your mother’s folder, did you not?”

“Yeah…”

“And then you proceeded to snoop around that room for another two hours, looking for… what? More proof?”

“We had to be sure! We couldn't run out there with one folder and a shabby argument and convict the man of murder!”

Leia sighed, shaking her head. “I understand why you did it, but I cannot comprehend why you refused to call the cops, or your dad, or _anyone_ other than another teenage kid! What would've happened if he had caught you, huh? You'd be dead, Luke! I don't want you to be dead.”

Luke winced. “I'm sorry, Leia. Really, I am!”

She paused, staring sadly at her friend from her place at his bedside. “I know, Luke. Really, I shouldn't have expected anything different.”

“No, you shouldn’t’ve.”

Leia glared at him,and Luke backed down. “I'm sorry, again.”

“You’re forgiven. Now, Han sends his love, Wes would like you to know that saying ‘I know the VP’s kid who caught the killer’ is far more fun than saying ‘I know the VP’s kid’, so thank you for that, Wedge wants you to sleep, and Hobbie told me to tell you to pick up your,” Leia paused, glancing at Vader, who was sitting on the opposite side of Luke’s bed. “Well. He used some colorful language, but he wants you to pick up your phone.”

“Ah,” Luke sighed. His phone was laying in the backseat of the town car he had ridden to the banquet hall two days ago. “I'll see what I can do.”

“Good,” Leia nodded, reaching down and pulling him into a tight hug. “I've got a tour of Coruscant College in fifteen minutes, but I should be back in a couple hours. Don't get into any trouble, alright?”

“Alright,” Luke nodded. “Bye, Leia.”

She nodded to Vader as she left, smiling at Luke. as she walked down the hall, Luke told Vader, “I think my twin would've been like her.”

A grim smile overtook Vader’s face. “Indeed, young one. She looks much like Padme. Your mother and I even decided that we would name you Luke, and your twin Leia. It’s quite the coincidence that your closest friend shares what would’ve been her name.”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded. “Especially since we were both born on the same day.”

Vader froze. “What?”

“Yeah! We always joke that we’re long-lost twins. Since Leia was adopted, we always say we’ll never really know.”

Vader stared at Luke with wide eyes. “Are you hearing yourself, young one?” he choked.

Luke frowned, contemplating his words. Leia looked like Padme, sure, and she had her political skills, and was adopted… and was born on the same day as Luke, but that didn't mean… _Oh shit_.

“Leia, come back!” Luke hollered down the hall after her. “I'm pretty sure we’re related!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Congrats, you made it to the end! Luke is an oblivious little child, hehehe. I, quite frankly, was overjoyed with the thought of doing this one, so I was really happy it got the most votes... until I was #inspired to write a horsemanship au, which will come out next, probably by Monday or Tuesday. I might finish beforehand, but I do enjoy keeping you all waiting <333
> 
> OOOH, here's some little things I thought about along the way of writing (that are my headcanons for this au) but didn't really focus on:
> 
> 1\. Palpatine is a dictator. He somehow arranged for himself to stay in office for years and has been embezzling money for ages. He stages 'elections' that are rigged so he always wins; Piett's job is basically pointless. This is all revealed after he's impeached.  
> 2\. Mara Jade doesn't know it, but she was sent to the banquet with specific orders to 'tell palpatine if anything untoward shoudl occur'. This was Palpatine's way of confirming Luke's death. She thought he wanted her to see if someone was committing treason  
> 3\. The Naberrie family finds out about Luke and Leia through the grapevine at a later date and they are Not Happy with Vader  
> 4\. The girl dancing with Zev is Elliana 'Ellie' Veers, a character I made up in my head. She's loyal to the Empire, but disagrees with a lot of the discrimination. She lost her mother and is terrified of losing her father, so she stays with him even though she doesn't agree. In the actualy star wars universe, I could imagine her and Zev secretly communicating. She's younger than him, but a sweetie, who was absolutely hilarious as a kid but lost her humor when her mom died.  
> 5\. I like... used to ship Lando and Luke. Is that weird??
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed that! After next chapter, I'll use the same options as before (Excluding Violet) for you all to pick between. The FBI thing is slow-going, because I've gotten all of these ideas running around in my head, but I'm working on it/planning it a touch each day. I want to have it at least halfway finished before I post the first chapter, otherwise I probably won't stick with it, or I'll go super off course and everyone will die. 
> 
> Soooo, pretty please leave me a comment! I love to hear from you all so much, and I really hope you all enjoyed this! Love you all! bye
> 
> (p.s.: be happy)


	13. Space Horses (but not in space)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Luke Skywalker attends a riding competition/fundraiser at the Imperial Center, an esteemed equestrian stable known for it's pageantry and harsh stable manager, he certainly doesn't expect to win. With the help of a secretive, dark riding coach, though, he might do just that. Also, eff you, Galen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING WARNING WARNING: mentions of homophobia, some homophobic language 
> 
> Okay, well, now that that's been said and done; I am a horse girl. When I don't write, I am horse-ing. I do mostly trail rides and things such as that. I think I'm going to start practicing jumping, but I mostly ride trails and once in a lake, and I don't compete because I worry that I'll take it for granted, and focus on winning instead of loving my horse and enjoying myself. Because of this, while I love horses, I don't understand a lot that there is to the competition world, so, much like with the surgery au, I apologize for any inaccuracies! (Also, my Paint was totally the inspiration for Artoo, don't @ me)
> 
> So, this is [Threepio](https://www.opusztaszerimenes.hu/wp-content/uploads/akhal-teke-horse-1.jpg). This is [Chewie](https://www.horsebreedspictures.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/Belgian-Draft-Horse-Pictures.jpg). I couldn't find exactly what I thought R2 would look like, but [here](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/d6/62/a4/d662a4ef4fef8da4d3e0bacf4edb2eea--blue-eyes-white-eyes.jpg) is a black and white paint with some really cool coloring that could work. I already had an idea of what R2 would look like, and this is slightly like that, but the Paint I had in mind was brown and white, while he had some black splotches in his mane and tail. He also has one blue eye and one brown eye, but he wasn't a totally perfect it either. With paints, it's really about preference. Mostly white paints (or white horses in general) are a struggle because grass stains and the impossibility of cleaning them when they get covered in mud just to spite you. Then, when they shed, you have muddy white horse hair all over your cute black jacket and regret your life choices. Lady Ex would be [a friesian](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/48/fa/cf/48facf8760a56e2684bedd902be370f9.jpg). Friesians are stunning, and used to be used in battle a long time ago, so if she was a horse, I can totally imagine Vader's horse being a Friesan. Mothma's gelding, Yavin, is [an appaloosa](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/11/08/8c/11088c4c92a122e08f6c04d047f23286.jpg). Galen Marek's horse, Starkiller, is [a grey Arabian](https://c8.alamy.com/comp/E45WNN/a-grey-arab-barb-stallion-cantering-in-paddock-at-the-national-stud-E45WNN.jpg). 
> 
> also. there are puns. be warned. whoever can count them all wins!! idk what the prize is, maybe just my unbridled love... alright, I guess it's time for me to quit stalling and get to the chapter all ready. I hope you enjoy!

Luke pulled his brush down through Artoo’s mane, the paint horse whinnying in protest. “I know,” Luke sighed. “You don't like it. But if you hadn’t gotten your hair tangled, we wouldn't be in this mess.”

Leia snorted in agreement from across the barn. She was grooming her horse, Threepio, in his stall. Threepio had gotten burs stuck in his forelock (aka horse bangs), and his hair was sticking up between his ears like a unicorn horn. Threepio was a golden Akhal-Teke with a shiny metallic coat. The fact that Leia had gotten her hands on him was a miracle in and of itself; there were fewer than 10,000 Akhal-Tekes in the world. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” she sighed, flicking Threepio’s tangled mess of a horn with dismay, “I doubt that I'll be able to get this out before the competition on Sunday.”

Luke laughed, shaking his head. “I'm sure you’ll find a way.”

That Sunday, Luke, Leia, Mon Mothma, and several other members of the Rebel Alliance Riders Association would be taking their horses up to the other side of Coruscant to compete in a week-long competition, starting on Monday. The competition would be held at the Imperial Center, a prestigious riding stable where only the richest and snobbiest of horse owners boarded their horses. 

The Imperial Center was a huge stable spanning across almost 1500 acres of land. There were five separate barns (three for boarders and two for visitors during competitions), each jaw-droppingly extravagant and well-tended to. All horse barns are bound to have more than a little dirt and grime in each corner, but not at the Imperial Center. No, instead, stable boys and girls swarmed the place every day, working for hours at a time to keep the barns clean and polished. They were treated like servants by the rich horse owners who paid outlandish fees in order to keep their horses at the Center. 

When it wasn't ripping people off, the Imperial Center rented out it’s arenas and trails to competition owners and certain fundraisers it deemed ‘worthy’. It received twenty percent of everything each fundraiser received, and hosted its own competitions once a year. Because of it’s prestige and the haze of awe surrounding the Center, each competition and fundraiser lured horse lovers and non-horse lovers from around the world, all clamoring for a glance of the esteemed stable. 

There were also several hotels nearby with connections to the Center, who offered a discounted price for all those visiting the stable. Of course, this was arranged by the Imperial Center’s owner, Sheev Palpatine, an elderly man who had (most likely) never touched a horse in his life. Though he gained profits from the competitions and unfairly priced boarding fees, he wasn't the one who did all the work to run the Center. That job fell to his sole heir, Darth Vader. 

Darth Vader was a middle aged man with greying blonde hair and a fiery temper. He was the trainer who built up the Imperial Center until it became the critically acclaimed stable that it is today. He was an acclaimed trainer, who, while he excelled at training horses, was also famous for training multiple dressage riders, who worked with their horses to become famous in the riding world. 

Han Solo, a kid who worked with Luke and Leia to support his giant draft horse, Chewie, worked under Vader as a stable boy for several years. He told Luke and Leia that the man was brutal and harsh with the stable workers, and even with the riders he trained. It was true; Vader had been known to fire any stable workers that made the slightest misstep around his horse, the one and only Lady Ex. 

Lady Ex was a 17.5 hand (5 feet and 10 inches at the shoulders/withers) Friesian, her coat a shining black that highlighted her musculature and physique. She was tall for her breed, but that didn't hold back her unbridled beauty. Her eyes were so brown they were nearly black, and her mane and tail cascaded off of her like waves. She was an accomplished mare, with over a hundred blue ribbons lining the walls outside her stall. 

At the competition, Mothma would be riding against her and Vader. She was optimistic, but wasn't sure if she would succeed. She and Vader were competing in the adult dressage group, while Luke would compete against several other riders in the sub-adult dressage group. Leia, who thrived on originality, would be show jumping with Threepio. It was twenty dollars to get into the competition, and all of the funds would go to the Animal Welfare Institute. They _were_ riding for charity after all. 

If they weren't, there was no way Mothma would be willing to truck them across the city with horses in tow. She despised the idea of the Imperial Center. “It’s a monopoly on horsemanship,” she had told Luke once. “Palpatine has his fingers in every pie but the actual riding part. He doesn't care for horses, he cares for cash.”

Leia felt much the same, and Luke abhorred the supposed cruelty to stableworkers. Han had lived through it, so he felt much the same. 

_For charity_ , Luke reminded himself. _We’re going for charity._

“On the bright side,” he shrugged to Leia, trotting away from his thoughts, “we’ve got one last fun ride before we have to leave, right?”  
“If Han gets here on time, then yes. Right.”

Luke snorted. Han, who worked two jobs to pay for his giant Belgian draft horse named Chewie, was infamously late to every barn event _ever_. It made Mothma, their barn manager (and owner) want to pull her hair out. 

“Don't count on it,” he reminded her. 

Sure enough, Han was fifteen minutes late. Luke understood, of course; he babysat and worked at Mos Espa’s Cantina to pay for Artoo's boarding fees, not to mention his vet bills, but he at least _tried_ to be punctual. Han, on the other hand…

He rolled up in the parking lot in his old, busted Volkswagen, the very picture of calm and easygoing. He took his time getting out of the car, typing something quickly into his phone before doing so. When he did step out the door, he waved to Leia and Luke (who were standing outside the barn impatiently, their horses’ reins in hand) with one engine-grease covered hand. 

“What’d I miss?” he asked, dryly, as he took in Leia’s impatient expression. 

“You’re late,” she snapped.

“Relax, princess,” he said with a roll of his eyes, shutting the dor behind him. He was wearing a t-shirt and swim trunks, just like Luke, while Leia was clad in biker shorts and a bikini top. “We’re just riding down the street to the lake, it’ll take me five minutes to get Chewie tacked up.”

“Where have you been?”

“For your information, your Worship, my engine broke down about three miles down the road. It’s a good thing I know so much about horsepower.”

With that, he waltzed past her into the barn, leaving Luke to watch her gape after him. “The audacity,” she fumed. Luke just laughed. 

“You know he’s just trying to get a rise out of you,” he shook his head.

She glared at him. “I'm well aware, thank you.”

Luke shrunk under her gaze, and five minutes later, they were on their horses, riding down to the lake. 

Under normal circumstances, the trio would never wear shorts while riding. It’s much harder to grip your seat, and much easier to fall off. But they were going to the lake, and would most likely go swimming, with and without their horses. They could wear jeans, but in the sweltering heat, wet denim is no one's friend. 

________

Ten minutes later, the trio reached the Alliance’s private beach. Between memorial day and labor day, horse riders are asked not to use the public beach, as a common courtesy to those around them. Thankfully, though, the water was no one’s property and private beaches were a free-for-all. So on burning hot days like these, the group loved to relax in the water. 

Luke laughed, shaking his head as Artoo pawed at the water. “Stop!” he chuckled. “You got water in my eyes.”

Han snorted and Leia just laughed. They turned their horses a little farther out, but not deep enough for them to swim. The horses sluggishly walked through the water, and Han winced. “Maybe I should’ve used a saddle,” he commented. Chewie’s body was swaying with movement, causing Han’s hips to sway back and forth. 

“Well,” Leia shrugged, “maybe you should have been on time.”

Han’s eyes narrowed. “Listen, princess, just because your daddy pays for Threepio--”

“Hey guys,” Luke cut in. He reached down and cupped some water in his hand, and abruptly splashed it at Han. 

The stable worker laughed, then splashed Luke back relentlessly. “What’s up, kid? You can dish it but you can't take it?”

Luke gasped. “I'll show you!”

With that, they threw themselves into an impromptu splashing battle, holding their horses still in the water. “Quit horsing around, you two,” Leia sighed to Han and Luke. “Artoo and Chewie may be fine with it now, but remember when Artoo spooked at nothing and bucked you off a week ago?”

Luke winced, rubbing his lower back in phantommemory-pain. “Right…” 

“And when Chewie threw you off in the corner of the arena because he forgot how to horse?”

Han chuckled abashedly. “Oh, yeah. He didn't mean anything by it. He's a--”

“--gentle giant,” Luke and Leia finished in unison. “We know.”

Han scrunched up his nose, clearly ready to defend his horse, but Luke stepped in before he could say anything. “Let’s go out a little further,” he said, nodding farther away from the shoreline. “Artoo wants to swim.”

Leia, who had been fighting Threepio’s pull towards the deeper areas of the lake, agreed. “Same here.”

Han just shrugged. “Chewie, as per usual, doesn't give a fuck, because he’s a--”

“--gentle giant. _We know!_ ”

________

Thankfully, no one fell off during their little lakeside excursion. Luke had come close when Artoo nearly slipped on the rocks near the shore of the beach, but other than that, things went perfectly smoothly. Artoo loved splashing himself with water, stomping his front leg to do so, and Threepio dipped his head into the water and blew bubbles. Chewie, as per usual, did nothing crazy, because he was a gentle giant. 

When they got back from their ride, they quickly sprayed the horses with bug spray and set them loose in the pasture, watching them canter away. The heat had gradually become more bearable throughout the day, so they turned out the rest of the horses that were staying inside with fans to shelter themselves from the heat. 

“I thought you were going on a trail ride,” said Mothma, who arrived just after they put the horses outside. She took in their soaking forms with unimpressed eyes. “It would seem you went for a swim.”

“It was a spur of the moment decision,” Han shrugged. “The horses swam, then we tied them to a tree and we swam. You know how it goes.”

Mothma shrugged in agreement, and said, “Tell me next time you go to the lake. I need to know where you are in case of any dangerous occurrences. Besides, I'd quite like to join you.”

“Of course!” Leia beamed. “We’re sorry.”

Mothma waved them away. “Next time,” she said, turning towards the tack room. “If you have a couple minutes to stay, I could use some help loading up the trailers for Sunday.

Luke and Leia shrugged with a nod, and Han just said, “I’m their ride home, and I'm here all day.”

Mothma paused at that. “Well, I certainly hope you’ve brought a change of clothes, Mr. Solo? You can't get much done around here in shorts and flip-flops.”

Han winced, and nodded. “Uh, they’re in my car.”

“Change, please,” she prompted, and he rushed towards his car to grab a spare set of clothes. She turned to Luke and Leia and asked, “So, I'm assuming both of you have loaded a trailer before?”

________

Luke groaned and flopped onto his couch, palms rubbing at his eyelids. He was glad that he, too, had thought to bring a change of clothes to the barn, because they ended up staying from 9:00am to 8:00pm, which, of course, was amazing, but drained him so much that he could barely stand on two feet. 

Beru, who was watching him from the kitchen, tsked at him, shaking her head. “It would be easier for you if you had gotten more sleep.”

Luke groaned again. “I tried! The weird dream kept coming back, remember?”

Beru sighed. “You can't put too much faith in your dreams, Luke. It was a nightmare; nothing more.”

“It wasn't scary,” Luke persisted. “Just… confusing. Something’s going to happen, I just don't know what.”

“Luke, dear, you aren't psychic. You can't move things with your mind or see the future. Don't trick yourself into believing that you can.”

Luke laughed at her phrasing, shaking his head. Move things with his mind? How ridiculous. “I know. It’s just a weird feeling. Something’s going to happen.”

Beru pushed his feet off the couch and took a seat where his legs once were. “Well then,” she indulged him, “is it a good something?”

Luke shook his head. “I'm not sure. It’s just… something.”

“Something about the competition?”

“Something _at_ the competition, not about it.”

Beru frowned, tilting her head at the seventeen year old. “Are you sure it isn't nerves?”

“No, I know what nerves feel like,” he protested vehemently. He felt them every time he went into a competition, but they weren't this. “Nerves feel nothing like this.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Nerves are… a twist in my gut. They make me nauseous, make my heart stop beating. This is different. It’s like my mind’s moving a mile a minute to find what’s coming. And my heart hasn't stopped beating, it’s just sped up.”

Beru worriedly placed a hand on his forehead, checking for fever, but he shook her off. 

“I'm not sick,” he said.

Beru hesitated, then smiled. “I know, dear. But… well. I'm sure whatever it is will settle itself, no?” Luke didn't answer, so Beru sighed and stood up, squeezing his shoulder. “I'm off to bed. Your Uncle Owen wants you up and in the fields early tomorrow morning.”

Luke nodded. Owen didn't pay him much for helping out, only a nickel an hour, but it was something. “I'll be there.”

And he was.

________

“Step up, Artoo,” Luke reminded his horse as he led him into the three-horse trailer. “There’s a bump.”

When Artoo made it into the trailer, Luke quickly latched him to the side of the vehicle and slipped out a door on the other side as Leia led Threepio in behind him. 

Artoo and Threepio were pasture pals, and had been for the past three years. Luke got Artoo when the horse was only 8 years old, and Luke was fourteen. He had to work his ass off to pay for him, and used Uncle Owen as a cushion for a bit, but when he turned sixteen and got a job, he gradually began paying his uncle back. Beru had insisted that it wasn't necessary, but Luke knew what was expected of him. 

Leia, on the other hand, didn't have as much responsibility in paying for her horse, though she paid the vet bills and the blacksmith on her own. Her father was a Senator who wasn't short on cash, which, compared to Luke and Han, made her seem rich. 

Han was an orphan for over half of his life, and Luke didn't grow up poor, but certainly didn't grow up privileged. Oftentimes, Luke would forget about the financial differences between the two, because Leia certainly didn't _act_ spoiled. But there were some things she took for granted, while Luke was always careful about cash. 

Regardless, though, they were still close, and Luke didn't care much about their difference in social class. In his and Leia’s mind, they were different, but still equal. 

Because of this, Luke found it much easier to complain to Leia about… everything. 

“The dream?” she exclaimed. “Still?!”

“I know,” Luke said, bemoaning his lack of sleep. The competition was lurking in his mindspace. 

“For what it’s worth, kid,” Han said, a crease in his brow, “I think your aunt’s right. This is a huge competition, it’s gotta be hella nerve-wracking for ya.”

Luke shook his head. “No, it’s not that. Something, or _someone_ is going to be there, and that something and/or someone is going to change… _something_.”

Leia sighed, scratching Chewie’s oversized nose. They were standing in the aisle outside his stall while Han fed him apple slices. In five minutes, Luke and Leia had to leave for the competition. Han wasn't coming; he didn't compete, because in his eye, there was no reason to prove that Chewie was the best. It was just common knowledge. 

Then again, everyone thinks that about their own horses.

“I really do think it could be anxiety,” Leia insisted. Luke withheld the urge to roll his eyes. He had heard _this one_ before. “Have you talked to your aunt about--”

“I don't have anxiety!” Luke said, a little too loudly. A few of the stable workers around them stared at him, and he curled in on himself, telling them in a lower tone, “Somethings going to happen. I just don't know what.”

Han and Leia exchanged a nervous glance. “Well,” Leia said, attempting to distract him, “at least no matter what, one thing will never change.”

“Yeah?” Luke asked dryly. “And what would that be?”

“No matter what, Han will always love Chewie more than he loves us.”

Luke snorted in laughter, and Han huffed indignantly. “He’s my _horse_ , Leia,” he reminded her. “He’s practically my child. Nevertheless, though, you’ll always be the apple of my eye.”

He pointedly stared at Leia as he slid Chewie a slice of his apple. The giant draft horse licked it up, crushing it between his lips in one chew.

Leia rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to speak, when Mothma (who was standing at the entranceway of the barn after loading up her horse in the trailer next to Threepio) called out to Luke and Leia. 

“Come on, now,” she chastised them with a gleam in her eye. “We’ll be late to the competition if you don't stop horsing around.”

“She’s got a point,” Han sighed. “You’d better hoof it.”

“Would you both quit it with the puns?” Leia winced, hiding her smirk. “It’s all a bit too much.”

Luke groaned, burying his face in his hands. This would be a long trip. 

________

It took three hours to drive from one side of Coruscant to the other, which was a touch hard on the horses and very hard on the humans. Luke and Leia spent the whole trip discussing dream psychology, Brittney Spears, and the competition itself. It was a miracle they didn't drive Mothma crazy with their chatter. 

“So who else is coming?” Leia asked, half an hour into the drive.

“Well, I believe three of the Alliance’s stables are participating. Mine, of course, Andrew Ackbar’s and perhaps Mr. Madine’s as well.”

The teens nodded, filing this information in their minds. The Alliance Association was more of a network than an official stable. There was a council of lead members, that Mothma happened to be on, and each lead member owned a different barn. The Alliance helped people to find places to fit in in the riding world, whether you belonged in trail riding or competitions. 

Mothma once said that the Imperial Center was a monopoly, but in reality, the Alliance held all the cards. 

“Ackbar is bringing an adult and another student, whom I believe will be competing with Leia,” Mothma continued. “And Madine will bring a student to compete with Luke, as well as a couple spectator’s he’s hoping will donate.”

Luke creased his brow. “Are Madine and Ackbar competing against you?”

“No,” Mothma said. “Ackbar will be, but Madine prefers show jumping over dressage work.”

“We all know who your _real_ competition is,” Leia frowned. “Darth Vader.”

“I will be going up against many formidable opponents.”

“Formidable, sure,” Luke shrugged. “But not like Vader and Lady Ex.”

Mothma stiffened at the mention of Lady Ex. “Yavin has his tricks as well.” Yavin was Mothma’s blanketed** brown and white appaloosa (** _blanketed means it had a white spot over the booty_ ). He was an eleven year old gelding, with half of Lady Ex’s experience and a quarter of her awards. 

The riders might be even in experience, but the horses were not. 

Leia, of course, pointed this out to Mothma, who shook her head and changed the subject. “The real issue is Luke’s opponent.”

“You say that like I only have one competitor,” Luke observed. 

“Because in reality, you do. Of course, Madine’s student has talent, but not quite like yours, and Madine mentioned that the girl’s horse has been acting up as of late. I've canvassed your other competitors, and truly there’s only one that could put up a fight.”

Luke blushed at the flattery. “I'm sure that’s not true. I mean, I'm good, but I'm not that good.”

Leia weaved her arm around from her place in the passenger's seat of Mothma’s truck to lean back and flick Luke in the forehead. At his startled, ‘Ow’, she admonished, “Don't undermine your abilities.”

Luke’s face heated, but he tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling and asked, “Who is it? Who can put up a fight?”

Mothma sighed, glancing away from the road to catch his eye in the rearview mirror. “Galen Marek.”

________

Galen Marek was, in short, an asshole. 

He was Vader’s hotshot apprentice, known for his dressage skills and his overall assholery. 

He was a good rider, sure, because how could _not_ be, what with a trainer like Vader, but he wasn't a natural. Luke, on the other hand, was just that. 

“Marek’s riding is… stunted,” Mothma explained as they grew closer to the Imperial Center. “Nothing is fluid, nothing shows emotion. His technical skills are unparalleled, but he’s been known to lose points because of his stiff demeanor.”

“And I'm the exact opposite,” Luke realized. His technical skills could use a little--well, a _lot_ of work, but he was a natural rider who’s fluidity throughout his motions had gained him points during many competitions. 

“Exactly,” Mothma nodded. “Your dressage events will not take place until Thursday, Friday, and Saturday evenings. This will give you time to hone your technical skills, but it won’t be easy.”

“No,” Luke frowned. “No it won't be.”

Many judges tend to score on technicality alone; in all reality, Luke didn't have a chance.

________

The Imperial Center was gorgeous. 

Deep down, Luke knew that it was hilariously overpriced, and that the owner simply got some form of joy out of ripping people off, but still… it was gorgeous. 

The five barns were arranged in a large U-shape, so that the largest barn was at the center of the curve, and the smallest barns were at the end. The smallest, of course, were home to all the horses that came to stay or competitions. They were the smallest, but there had to have been at least fifty stalls in each. Luke didn't even want to think about the effort that went into keeping a place like this clean. 

He set Artoo up in the first barn on the right side of the U, settling him into a spacious stall and throwing him a leaf of hay. Threepio and Yavin were stationed beside him, and not for the first time, Luke wished Han attended competitions. 

He and Chewie would make this a lot less stressful. 

Once the horses were settled in, a stable girl beckoned them over to a small, closed off room, and asked them to sign in, her eyes studying the floor. She was timid, but when Luke smiled at her and said, “Thank you,” she beamed right back at him. 

After that, Mothma (who had been here twice before) led them around the grounds, motioning to the different trails and arenas around them. Luke looked on in awe, and even Leia failed to act unimpressed. 

Eventually, though, they came to a small arena behind the largest barn, where a boy was viciously spurring a grey Arabian horse around the arena. Luke watched, conflicted, as he led the horse through different dressage steps. On one hand, the boy was a technical master. On the other hand, he was stiff as a board. 

This must be Galen Marek. 

“You must be enjoying the show,” a deep voice said from behind them. Luke and Leia whipped around, only to be met with the hulking figure of Darth Vader. Mothma merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“Your trainee is quite impressive,” she spoke calmly, leaning reassuringly towards Luke, who had shrunk away from Vader. 

“Indeed, he is,” Vader responded, his tone cold. “Though there is much room for improvement.”

“Where?” Leia snapped. “His technical skills are unbeatable.”

“Not quite,” Vader hummed, stepping forward to stand at the fence. When he caught sight of his trainer, Galen abruptly pulled back on the reins and his horse skidded to a halt. 

“Sir,” he nodded to Vader, spurring his horse forward to reach the fence. “How did I look?”

“Mediocre,” Vader snapped. Luke watched in pity as Galen’s face fell, but was quickly covered by a blank mask of an expression. 

“Where can I improve?” Galen asked. Luke wished he hadn't heard the hopeful and desperate tone; it made it harder to dislike him. 

“Everywhere.”

Galen nodded. “I'll get better.”

“I'm sure. Run the course again.”

Without further prompting needed, Galen took his horse through a tight turn and walked through the course. Luke watched on. 

“I'm assuming one of you own Starkiller’s main competitor?” Vader snapped to Luke and Leia.

Luke just blinked, but Leia nodded. “Luke owns Artoo. He and Artoo are going up against Galen and Starkiller on Thursday. And if you’re concerned about them winning… don't worry. We won't disappoint.”

Vader just shook his head. “From what I’ve heard, your little pony is a simple Paint. This ‘Artoo’ doesn't hold a candle to Starkiller.”

“Why not?” Luke asked. “If ‘Starkiller’ is Galen’s horse’s name, then believe me, Artoo is ten times better.”

“The name? Or the horse?”

Luke flinched at Vader's amused tone, but pushed on. “Both. Artoo’s the best. You can’t beat him.” 

“The rider is just as important as the horse.”

“If not more so,” Luke agreed. “But what’s even more important than that is the connection between a horse and a rider. Artoo knows what I’m going to ask him to do before I even tell him. Starkiller and Galen don't seem to have that kind of bond.”

Vader looked to Mothma with a raised brow. _Control your student_ , his eyes screamed. The corner’s of her lips quirked up and Vader scowled, turning back to Luke. “Starkiller is a fine horse.”

“I don't doubt it. He's gorgeous, too, but… he and Galen aren't close. Me and Artoo are.”

“Then I'm sure it wouldn't hurt to prove it.”

“I'm… sorry?”

“You believe that your… ‘connection’ with your horse will aid you in winning this competition.”

“Just a bit, yeah.”

“Then I propose we stage a small competition,” Vader prompted, turning to Mothma. “What do you say, Mothma? Care to watch out trainees duke it out?”

Mothma raised an eyebrow, never breaking eye contact. “I believe that’s up to them.”

“Marek!” Vader hollered across the arena. Luke flinched, but Galen--well, Galen’s _horse_ \--came running. 

“Yes, sir?” he asked eagerly. Vader didn't seem to notice his trainees desperate people-pleasing attitude, or he blatantly ignored it. 

“We’re thinking of a little competition, between you and him,” he waved at Luke. “What do you say?”

Galen’s chest puffed up, and he sneered at Luke. “It would be my pleasure.” 

__________

Luke bit his lip in frustration as he plopped a saddle onto Artoo’s back. The horse tossed his head, protesting the evidence of work during what would otherwise be his mealtime. 

“I don’t like it either, buddy,” Luke said, rubbing the paint’s nose softly. “But I can't back down now.”

Artoo bumped Luke’s hip lightly with his nose, and Luke smiled. “Love you too.”

Five minutes later, once his girth was securely attached to the billets of his saddle and Artoo’s bridle was safely resting on his head, Luke led him out of the barn. His stomach felt queasy; the strange dreams might not have been nerves, but this definitely was. His breath came out in short bursts, and his heart clenched up in his chest. 

Once he reached the arena, Luke tightened Artoo’s girth one last time, sent Vader a sickly sweet smile, and mounted Artoo from the ground. He took a deep breath and evened out the reins in his hand, reaching down to give Artoo a quick pat, and walked into the arena. 

Vader called out orders to Luke, much like how a real dressage competition would commence. Luke went from point A to point X in the center, saluted Mothma once he reached it (he would _not_ salute Vader after he pressured him into this), and cut across the arena to point K. From there on out, Vader shouted orders to him, and he quickly followed through, putting as much thought into his technique as he could without losing sight of his other skills. 

For him, competitions were meant to be fun. A way to meet people, a way to belong. 

This didn't feel like that.

Finally, after almost a half an hour, it was over. He swung his leg over Artoo’s back and rubbed his neck, whispering his thanks to the Paint. He was perfect. 

When he turned away from Artoo and spared a nervous glance at his impromptu judges, he was met by the sight of Vader’s mildly impressed stare and Galen’s jealous glare. Great. He’s always wanted a friendly horse rivalry. (Not.) 

He tried not to focus on Vader and Galen, instead opting to look to Mothma. She nodded to him, clearly proud, and Leia flashed him a thumbs up from her place beside their instructor. 

Luke led Artoo out of the arena, whispering a promise to give the horse a treat once he got back to the guest barn. 

“Impressive,” Vader said in lieu of a greeting. “Though your technical skills are quite lacking.”

Luke spared Galen a glance, and found that the boy (who was still holding the stunning Arabian) was still glaring at him. “I didn't appreciate being put on the spot.”

“You performed well under pressure,” Vader observed, squinting at Luke as if trying to solve a particularly difficult math problem. “Though you still have much to learn.”

"I've only been riding for six years. Most people my age have been riding for ten.”

“Twelve,” Galen cut in coldly. Luke looked away from him. 

“Nevertheless,” Vader lied, “there is no doubt in my mind that my trainee will win this competition. Farewell, for the night.”

With that, Vader turned on his heel and marched away while Leia glared after him. Mothma nodded to Luke and said, “I’ll be in the car, unhooking the trailer. Get Artoo back in for the night, and then we can talk.”

Luke smiled at her as she walked away, leaving him, Galen, and Leia in the dust. “That was awful of him,” Leia said, clearly angry at Vader. “Putting you on the spot like that? No good teacher would do such a thing.”

“Darth Vader is a far better teacher than your little lady,” Galen scoffed at them. Luke blinked once. _What?_

“How _dare_ you?!” Leia fumed. Luke grabbed her arm when she stepped angrily towards the other boy. 

“Not with the horses right here,” he hissed at her, pulling her back towards the barn while Artoo walked along beside him. 

“Get the hell off your high horse, Galen!” she shouted over her shoulder. “You're no better than either of us.”

________

“You did well,” Mothma smiled at him. Luke blushed. They were sitting in the lounge area of the nearest hotel, not wanting to go to their adjoining rooms just yet. 

“I could've done better,” he shrugged off the praise.

“You impressed Darth Vader. That is not easily done.”

“You did it. Doesn't he call you his only ‘formidable’ opponent?”

“Yes, but don't be foal-ish. That title was earned after 37 years of riding. You’ve been around horses less than a quarter of that.”

“I'm alright, but I'm not perfect. _Galen_ , on the other hand, is perfect.”

“Galen is a jerk,” Leia scoffed. Mothma raised an eyebrow, and Luke just shook his head. It was best if they didn't get into it.

“I don't know how I'll beat him,” Luke sighed honestly. 

“Since when is it about winning for you?”

“Leia has a point,” Mothma said when Luke failed to answer her question. “You used to say that competitions were about having fun, and meeting people. What’s changed?”

Luke sighed, brushing his fingers through his sandy blonde hair. “This isn't a normal competition. First of all, it’s for charity, so this could actually impact the world, more so than all the small competitions we’ve done. Second of all, there's so much attention focused on it because it’s at the Center. People are all going to expect Galen and Starkiller to win. I… don't want them to, because then it just shows that the Imperial Center, aka a bunch of rich kids, are better than all other riders.”

“I understand,” Mothma sighed. “I don't want Vader to win for the same reason.”

“But you can’t beat Vader,” Luke said.

“Luke!” Leia exclaimed. 

“It’s the truth, Leia,” Mothma was quick to defend him. “I've known it since the moment I entered this competition. But I suppose that even if I can't win, who says it should be easy for Vader?”

“Why not give him a little trouble,” Luke laughed. “You entered this competition just to make his life difficult?”

Mothma sent the two a conspiratorial smile. “Someone has to.”

Luke and Leia shared a laugh at Mothma’s behavior. Their trainer was, normally, calm and collected, and far above childish pranks. But if she joined a week long competition just to mess with Vader, they clearly hadn't seen every side of her. 

“It’s not about winning, now,” she said. “Unfortunately, those at the Imperial Center have had much better training than you, Luke. With Darth Vader at your side, there isn't much you can't do. So now, it’s about going down with a fight.”

“And maybe winning along the way,” Leia added in. 

“You have nothing to worry about,” Mothma shrugged. “Your biggest competitor is a girl named Mara Jade; she’s good, but not good enough.”

Luke sighed. “Of course you get the easy one.”

Leia smirked at him, and stood up. “I need to take a shower,” she announced. “You should, too. You’ve been in a hot car all day and randomly rode Artoo. You kind of reek, man.”

Luke sniffed his shirt, cringing at the smell. “Yikes.” 

Leia nodded, and Luke stood to follow her towards the elevator. Mothma caught his arm before he could go. “Luke,” she sighed, “from what I could tell, Vader is intrigued by you. You have the kind of raw talent we don't see very often, and he might even consider training you.”

“I don't think he was that impressed,” Luke mumbled. “Besides, I'm not going anywhere. I like the Alliance, not the Imperial Center.”

“Don't put yourself down,” Mothma reminded him. “And let me finish, please. It's rude to interrupt.”

“Sorr-”

“Vader might wish to train you, but he can't do so in the matter of a few days. Because of this, he’ll wait until after the competition to command you to train with him.”

“ _Comman_ \--”

“You are, of course, free to accept, but know that at the moment, Galen is his star pupil. He wants him to win, Luke, because it will reflect poorly on Vader if he doesn't.”

“Vader doesn't seem like the type to sabotage a competition.”

“He would never; he's far too honorable for that.”

LuUke snorted in amusement, but Mothma pushed on. 

“His little apprentice, though, is definitely a threat. I've known the boy for two minutes, and he’s clearly desperate for Vader’s attention. He will do _anything_ to win, Luke. Do not try to be his friend.”

“Why not?” Luke asked. “He clearly doesn't have any, if he's that desperate for Vader’s approval. Besides, he looks like he could use another friend.”

“Luke, Galen Marek is bad for you. Stay the hell away from him.”

Luke shook his head, slightly miffed at the swear word that had spewed out of Mothma’s mouth. Mothma never swore. “You don't know that.”

“Luke, he’s been rumored to have sabotaged competitions before. Once, a girl who was going against him went on a trail ride with him and ended up with a broken leg just before the competition. But the girl’s horse was so broke, it would never have spooked at anything.”

“All horses spook.”

“Not this one,” Mothma sighed. “Just… please be careful.”

“I always am.”

“Not careful enough.”

Luke gave her a Look™ and glanced back to Leia, who was impatiently holding the elevator for him. 

“Let’s go,” Mothma said, walking with him towards the elevator. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

That they most definitely did.

________

The next day was a flurry of activity. The adult jumpers competed in the morning, and the junior jumpers competed in the afternoon. In order to give the fundraiser more life, three people were eliminated each day. The first day, one Alliance jumper was out, as was one Imperial jumper. The rest were all random people who had gotten involved in the competition. 

Leia was still in, which warranted a glass of sparkling cider that night. Luke thought through different dressage steps in his head all day long, practising with Artoo all morning. 

The next day, Leia was still in. Ackbar, the Alliance's only adult jumper, was also still in. This wasn't too surprising; jumping wasn't the Imperial Center's strong suit. 

Luke practised and practised, ignoring the dreams that plagued him every night. He couldn't be worrying about whatever was going to happen, not during the competition. 

Another day passed. Leia won the competition, Mara Jade coming in a close second. Ackbar came in second, a decorated show jumper from Atlanta stealing first place.

Then, however, the names for the next day’s dressage competition were called.

________

“... Galen Marek and Luke Lars!” the announcer boomed into the microphone. “Come back tomorrow, folks, for another round of competitions, new, gorgeous horses, and, of course, tickets to the party this Sunday! That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, to end our fundraiser with a bang, we’ll be throwing…”

Luke let the announcer’s overly cheerful voice fade into the background, and he eyed Mothma in confusion. “... Lars?”

Mothma sighed with a shake of her head. “I listed your legal guardians on your emergency contact form. They must’ve mixed up the last names. I can take care of it, for you.”

Luke sighed, glancing towards the announcer’s booth. He was wrapping up for the night, but Luke could probably catch him before he left. “I've got it.”

“Are you su--”

“Go celebrate with Leia! Tell her I said congrats on her first blue ribbon. It’ll be one of many.”

Mothma hesitated, but nodded, and walked towards the exit of the arena Leia had just exited. Luke shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled over to the announcer’s booth, across from the viewing stands. 

“Uh, hey,” he said to the man, whose back was turned to him. “I was wondering if you could fix my name on the announcer’s sheet? I think they used my guardians’ last names instead of my own.”

The announcer, who seemed to be a cheerful guy, just spun around to glare at Luke. “I get paid minimum wage to sit in this hot tent and yap about horses all day,” he snapped. “I don't have time to solve your little teenage problems.”

“But, I was just--”

“No buts,” the man said, zipping up his backpack and tossing it over his shoulder. “Find someone who cares, kid.”

Luke frowned at him as he walked away. “Only Han gets to call me kid,” he mumbled. 

Well, he could always leave the issue unresolved and fix it in the morning, but he didn't need this on his mind when he was celebrating with Leia and Mothma. So, he tried to track down a judge, only to find no one in sight. So, he searched for one of the fundraiser officials, but they couldn't help him either. 

And so, he bit away any angry comments and marched towards Darth Vader, who was standing in front of the Lady Ex’s stall in the largest barn, feeding the mare a carrot.

Luke had seen pictures of the Lady Ex, but had never seen her in person, much less up close. He really had underestimated how majestic she was, but even standing in her presence made him feel the oddest touch unworthy. “She's beautiful,” he breathed softly.

Vader glanced away from his horse angrily, rolling his eyes when he saw Luke. “I don't assume you wish to forfeit from the competition, do you?”

“No, but--”

“Then why exactly are you lingering in my sight?”

Luke bit his lip, desperate not to let frustration get to him. “The announcer didn't get my name right. I tried to talk to him about it, but he--”

“I'm afraid that’s not my problem in the slightest. Talk to the judges.”

“I tried, but I couldn't find them.”

“Look harder.”

Luke groaned in frustration. “Look, if you see a judge can you just tell them that my name’s Luke Skywalker and not Luke Lars? It’s not that hard to do, and I can't find anyone who will listen to me, but you’ve got a much more commanding presence, so could you please just--”

“Skywalker?” Vader whispered softly. 

Luke cut himself short, brow furrowing in confusion. “Y-yes? That’s what I just said, I don't--”

“As in Anakin Skywalker?”

“He was my… father. Hey, how do you know--”

“It's simply a name I heard,” Vader snapped quickly. Too quickly. “Nothing more, nothing less.” 

Luke didn't buy that for one second. “Did you know him? No one tells me anything about my father, and--”

“I heard the name many years ago,” Vader said, slower this time. It almost sounded like the truth. “That is all.”

Luke still didn't buy it, but was tired of acting social for people he didn't care for. “Right. Look, I've been here all day, so I'm leaving, bu--”

“No!” Vader shouted, causing Lady Ex to toss her head and rear back a touch. Luke’s shoulders tensed up. “Erm, I… would you like to give her a carrot?”

Luke glanced between the bright orange veggie in Vader outstretched hand and Lady Ex, who looked quite unimpressed with him. “Would I like to give one of the most decorated, stunning dressage horses in the world a carrot?”

“... yes?”

Luke frowned, leaning away from Vader suspiciously. “Really? I've heard you don't let other people feed her, and tend to get pretty angry when someone other than you does...”

Then again, he had heard that from Han, who was infamous at the barn for feeding Chewie a new treat nearly everyday. Some people are compulsive eaters, he’s a compulsive feeder; who knows what he had pulled with Lady Ex. 

“Only when they do so without my permission,” Vader explained, still offering Luke the carrot. That explained the Han thing. 

Not without a twinge of suspicion in regards to the normally protective horse owner, Luke stepped up to Lady Ex’s stall and held out the back of his hand for her to sniff, avoiding direct eye contact. Once she licked her lips, Luke slowly took the carrot from Vader and broke it in half, offering her a piece. 

She practically inhaled the thing, prompting a surprised laugh from Luke. “She eats faster than Chewie!” he exclaimed. 

“Yes, she eats faster than most,” Vader said fondly, reaching into the stall to stroke her mane. 

“Why?” Luke asked. “I've heard of the stuff you feed her,” also from Han. “She’s clearly not malnourished.”

“She was, when I first obtained her. She was a rescue, you see; a registered Friesian that was treated poorly, starved in the hot sun without a drop of water. She’s learned to take nothing for granted, though some days I wish she would.”

Luke frowned, looking back up at Vader. “I heard you raised her since she was a baby. No one talks about her being a rescue.”

“Many people here look down upon rescue horses. They are, in the opinions of the rich, dirty old busted breeders.”

Luke shook his head. “That’s awful. Well, if it makes you feel any better,” Luke can _not_ believe he just said that to Darth kriffing Vader, “you wouldn't know by looking at her. She’s had a good life here.”

“Indeed she has,” Vader beamed at the horse, and for a moment Luke wondered why he ever thought Vader was a cruel person. 

“So if you haven't had her since she was a filly,” Luke held his palm out flat, carrot in hand, for Lady Ex to swipe out of his grip, “then how long have you had her?”

“Only ten years,” Vader sighed. “She’s fourteen, now.”

“That’s a good age,” Luke smiled. “Not too old, not too young. Getting older, but not old enough for arthritis to show up just yet. Artoo was only eight when I got him, but he’s twelve now. He had a problem with tossing his head, but he’s pretty much over it.”

“Twelve is also a good age,” Vader nodded, “but eight is young, for a horse.”

“He was pretty broke, even then. He’s still a touch green, but I like it. It gives him a little life.”

“And this was your choice for a show horse?”

“No,” Luke laughed. “I didn't really know about dressage three years ago. Even if I had, I still would’ve gotten him. He was only two thousand dollars, half of which I paid, and the other half my uncle paid.”

“You paid for your own horse? At age fourteen? That’s… quite impressive.”

“Don't be too shocked. I did what I had to, or else I wouldn’t have gotten him. I didn't have a rich daddy to pay for it. Didn't have a daddy at all.”

Vader stared at him sadly, and Luke had to look away front the man’s strange, prying eyes. 

“You’ll need a better trainer, if you wish to beat Galen,” Vader said, swiftly changing the subject.

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “Mothma’s a great teacher.”

“She is,” Vader agreed, “but not great enough for you. No one is great enough for you.”

Luke raised an eyebrow, considerably weirded out. “Yeah, well, she’s the only teacher I’ve got, so--”

“Not the only teacher,” Vader said with a shake of his head. 

“Madine? He’s doing dressage, too, but I don't think--”

“Not. Madine.”

It took Luke a moment to grasp what Vader was suggesting, but when he did, his eyes widened in shock. “You? You would let me have a chance at beating your own student?”

“No,” Vader replied. Luke deflated. It would’ve been nice to have Vader on his side, as odd as the concept was, but… “You already have a chance at beating Galen. I will simply supply you with the tools you need to do so.”

Luke blinked. Maybe Vader _was_ on his side. “Can't do much with tools unless I've got instructions…” 

“You will make those on your own.”

“I don't…”

“Consider it. You would, of course, be foolish to say no, but I understand if prior loyalties prevent you from doing so.” There was an odd pang in Vader’s voice that Luke didn't understand. 

“I'll think about it…” Luke said, too stunned to say more. 

“Would you like to give Lady another carrot?”

Luke nodded numbly and Vader handed him a carrot. “Just out of curiosity,” he pondered as Lady Ex munched away, “how many people are allowed to feed her?”

“Once, it was two,” Vader said stiffly. “Now… three.”

Luke looked up at Vader with surprise, then back at Lady Ex. The horse seemed to understand his shock, and bobbed her head once in a nod. _Yep_ , she seemed to be telling Luke. _My human’s a protective bugger. Congratulations, you’ve corrupted him._

Luke scratched her nose in stunned silence. “Huh.” 

“‘Huh,’ indeed.”

Lady Ex finished off the carrot, and another question occurred to Luke. “Is her registered name different? Than Lady Ex, I mean.”

“Yes, young one.”

“Is it super dark and creepy? I mean, Galen calls his Arab ‘Starkiller’, so I don't think you can get much odder than that.”

“It’s much easier than you'd think.”

“Well then what is it? Her registered name?”

Vader smiled at his horse, rubbing her neck fondly. “The Executor.”

_________

“He let me feed his horse!” Luke cried to Han over the phone, flopping onto the hotel bed. He had his own room, while Mothma and Leia had decided to share. Their rooms were adjoined, though, so all Luke had to do to get Leia’s attention was knock twice on her door. But it was her time to celebrate, and Luke didn't want to weigh her down with his… sufficiently odd interaction with Darth Vader and Lady Ex. 

“It’s two am, Luke,” Han groaned. “Go to sleep.”

“I can't,” Luke protested. “Anyways, are you alright? Your voice sounds kind of horse.”

“Yes, because it's 2 AM! Go the fuck to sleep. You have a competition tomorrow, remember?”

Since Leia wasn't on the line, Luke felt obligated to take her place. “Language,” he chided.

“Who are you, Leia?”

“Exactly. Besides, I don't have to be there till the afternoon.”

“No, but if Lord Vader wants to train you, won't you be oh so eager to get up at eight am to learn from the best?” 

“Sarcasm doesn't suit you. Besides, it doesn't even make sense. He isn't a lord.”

“Not to our knowledge, no.”

Luke sighed, glancing at the hotel clock on the bedside table. Sure enough, the clock read ‘2:07am’. He glanced up at the popcorn ceiling, the uneven texture creating odd shadows that spread across the roof. 

“Should I do it?” he asked. 

“Why can't you just ask Leia? You never ask me about this bullshit, because you know that while I care about you, I don't care about you enough to talk to you at 2 AM.”

“There’s just no good choice. If I do go with Vader, I'm betraying Mothma. If I don't, then I'm knowingly neglecting a chance for me to win this contest, and letting down the Alliance.”

“Damn, Luke, rein it the hell in. If you don't win, it’s not like you let us down. We don't give a damn about blue ribbons.”

“The whole reason I'm not mentioning this to Leia is _because_ of blue ribbons.”

“Which is fucking stupid. She won't be any less happy with herself when she learns how difficult and weird your life is.”

“Not helping.”

“That's because I'm not Leia.”

“You're snippy at 2 AM.”

“I'm snippy all the time, I'm just at my _snippiest_ when my lovably idiotic friends call me at 2 AM when any sane person would be asleep!”

( _Authors note: *looks at clock* it’s 3:30 am. Well. I never claimed to be sane in the first place._ )

“No horse person is sane, Han, we’ve been over this,” Luke sighed. 

Han groaned. “Kid, you’re killing me here. Just let me go to sleep! That’s all I ask!”

“Fine. But can we please talk in the morning?”

Han just groaned again and the line cut out. Luke sighed, dropping his phone on the bed covers beside him. He might as well get to sleep. Tomorrow would be an even longer day. 

________

It, of course, was. 

Mon Mothma’s dressage course started at 8:00 AM. She went through all the steps seamlessly, only messing up once when Yavin tossed his head in the middle of a step. 

Vader, of course, executed the entire course perfectly. Lady Ex and he exited the arena just on time, walking past Luke, who was seated in the stands. 

“Vader himself seems like a character,” Leia sighed, “but his horse is to die for.”

Luke snorted. That he could agree with. 

Mothma, who had just untacked Yavin and placed him back in his stall, walked over to the pair and sat down with grace. “How was I?”

“Perfect!” Luke replied.

“And how was Vader?”

“Perfect-er.” 

Mothma nodded, like she hadn't expected anything else. It was almost 9 o’clock, and those being eliminated from the competition would be announced at 11 o’clock, sharp, and she didn't want to miss anything. 

“So, Mothma, I should tell you--” Luke was cut off by a small, tired looking middle-aged man stepping over to them. “Erm, yes?”

“Vader would like to speak to you,” the man exclaimed. 

Luke looked to Mothma for guidance, but she just gave him a significant look, and said, “It’s your choice. Have we any idea what he needs, Firmus?”

At first, Luke had no clue who he was talking to, but then the man answered her with, “No, unfortunately.”

Luke knew _exactly_ what Vader wanted. But he couldn't tell Mothma. At least, not until he figured out Vader’s motives himself. 

“I'll go,” he said abruptly. Leia gaped at him in shock, but he didn't look back as he followed Piett into the barn. 

Sure enough, Vader was standing in front of Lady Ex’s stall yet again, carrots in hand. “You’re stereotypical, y’know,” Luke told Vader once Piett had left the barn. Luke lingered on the other side of the aisle, refusing to be tempted to the dark side with carrots and horses. 

“How so?” asked Vader. 

“The carrots,” Luke shrugged. “That’s a classic, stereotypical horse snack.”

“She enjoys them.”

“That can't be the only thing she likes?”

“Her grain, of course. Hay, grass, molasses. She's not picky, but there are some things she's always more eager to consume than others.’

“Like carrots.”

“Yes, like carrots. Would you like to…?”

Luke resisted the urge to take Vader’s carrot and smack him with it. _Yes, I’ll give your gorgeous horse a carrot, but this doesn't change the fact that you are offering to help me beat your own student at a competition in front of nearly a hundred spectators,_ Luke wanted to tell him. 

For some reason, he didn't think that would go well. 

“Why do you want to do it?” he asked, taking the carrot from Vader and breaking off half for Lady Ex. 

“Allow you to feed my horse?”

“No,” he rolled his eyes, taking a bite of the other half of the carrot that was untouched by horse spit. “Allow me to beat your student.”

Vader gaped at him for a moment. “Did you just… _eat_ Lady’s carrot?”

Luke swallowed down the bite, glancing up at the Friesian. She looked offended. “In my defense,” he told the horse, “I woke up late and didn't have breakfast. Besides, I broke it in half. It’s not like we’re swapping spit.”

“You _what_?” 

“Well, I was up late last night thinking over your offer, and I didn't wake up until 7:30, so I didn't have time for breakfast before Mothma had to get here.”

Vader was fuming, which, of course, confused Luke to no end, but most things about the man did, so this wasn't anything new. “Mothma is truly an irresponsible trainer if she refused to allow her own charge a moment to eat.”

“Well, in her defense--” Luke was cut off when Vader snatched the carrot out of Luke’s hand, offering it to Lady Ex. She gulped it up, and Luke asked, “You gave your horse my spit soaked carrot?”

“She's had worse, and _you_ will have better.”

With that, Vader snatched Luke by the wrist, dragged him out of the barn, and pulled him out towards the driveway of the barn. “Where are we going?” Luke exclaimed. 

“I have more sufficient food in my car.”

“You're _feeding_ me?”

“If by that you mean supplying you with food, yes, because clearly you cannot do it yourself.”

“I _can_ , I just--” Luke cut himself off with a gasp when he caught sight of the car Vader was leading him to. “Is that a TIE-XI?”

“Yes,” Vader replied sharply, relenting his grip just a touch. 

“How did you get one? There’s only like, ten in the entire world, they’re so new.”

“I’m close friends with Maximilian Veers, the owner of the company.”

Luke’s gape intensified. “Awesome.” 

Vader looked away, and for a moment, Luke could have sworn he was wearing the same blush Luke adopts whenever Mothma praises him just a touch too much.

But that was impossible. Vader wouldn't blush, and he certainly wouldn't look like Luke while doing so… right?

When they reached Vader’s car, Luke reached out to touch the sleek model, but hesitated before making contact. 

“You may sit inside,” Vader nodded, pleased with himself. 

Luke held back a whoop of joy as he dropped into the passenger’s seat. The interior was black, and shockingly clean for a horseman’s car, but Luke caught a glimpse of mud on the back seat and figured that Vader had a designated area for all of his dirty, soiled clothing.

“This thing must’ve cost a fortune,” he said, pondering the mud in the backseat. 

“Indeed,” Vader sighed, “though it was nothing I could not work towards.”

“It must be nice to be financially stable,” Luke sighed wistfully. 

Vader reached past him into the glove box, from which he pulled out a couple nutrient bars, a banana, and a chocolate chip muffin.

“Eat,” he ordered Luke. “You’ll do much better today if you’re well-energized.” Luke shrugged off all Aunt Beru’s warnings of ‘don't accept candy from strangers’ and tucked into the muffin, getting a spot of chocolate on his cheek. 

“So,” he said, his mouth still full, “why d’you wan’a hep me?”

“Swallow, then repeat.”

Luke gulped down his large bite and asked, “Why do you wanna help me?”

Vader paused, considering his answer, he glanced away from Luke, and when he looked back, there was some odd, unidentifiable emotion lurking in his eyes. It looked like… if fear of rejection and sadness and anger fused together, that fusion had a child with the physical representation of a bad past, the child would represent the look in Vader’s eyes. 

“I'm your--” Vader cut himself off with a choked growl, and shook his head. “I'm your only hope of beating him.”

“I don't think that’s what you were going to say,” Luke shook his head. 

“Well, it was,” Vader snapped. “Besides, Galen has become rather cocky as of late.”

“And he wasn't before?”

“He's certainly never told me that he ‘deserves’ to ride my Lady before.”

“Oh,” Luke winced. Telling a horse owner that you _deserve_ to ride their horse was never a good thing. “I'm, ah, sure that went over well.”

“Splendidly,” Vader replied dryly. 

“What did you tell him?”

“That I would know when he deserves that. If he ever does.”

Luke hummed to himself. “So, what? You're training me because he's getting on your nerves?”

“I suppose,” Vader nods. Luke can tell he’s hiding something, but he won't get anything out of the man. Not now, at least.

“I don’t want to be your pawn. Galen already doesn’t like me, I don’t think, and I don’t want to make it worse.”

“Galen’s hatred is a small consequence of honing your abilities.”

“I guess I care too much about what other people think, then. For me, hatred isn’t a _small_ consequence.”

“You must remove yourself from the compassion of it and focus on winning.”

“I try to have fun at competitions, not just win. If I don't, then it’s only ever going to be about winning and I'll lose sight of what matters and take it all for granted. Removing myself from the ‘compassion of it’ isn't an option.”

Vader paused, pondering Luke's response. “You do not seem like the type to take anything for granted.”

“I don't let myself,” Luke sighed. “So give me a better reason to train with you, and I'll think about it.”

“You've already thought about it.”

“I've got a lot of brainpower.”

Vader let out a sharp breath of air that could be mistaken as a laugh and said, “I see a talent in you. I saw it when I first watched you ride, but I've only gained an appreciation for it as time went on. You have potential to become an outstanding rider.”

“So you’re just going to help me?” Luke looked away from Vader, the tips of his ears going red. He could hardly take flattery from Mothma, being praised by a rude, impossible to please, renowned rider such as Vader didn't do good things to his heart rate. “I don't get it. You didn't seem too inclined to lend a hand when you saw me ride on Sunday.”

“My perspective has… shifted,” he spoke stiffly. “I once believed Galen was the only competitor even close to worthy of winning. Now, I know better.”

“Why does it matter so much to you? For me, it’s a chance to show the world that the Imperial Center isn't the only stable with good riders and horses. You don't have anything to prove.”

“Before I met you, I did not. Now, though, I do.”

Luke tilted his head, then chewed and swallowed half of the banana before he replied. “You want to prove… what? That you can train me to beat Galen in no time at all?”

“You will know what point I've set out to prove once it’s been proven.”

Luke sighed and shook his head. “I'd much rather know now.”

“You will learn, young one,” Vader assured him, stepping away from the car. “I'll allow you to consider my offer, though you must tell me before you compete today.”

“I don't think you’ll be able to do much with so little time.”

“You will pass the first round, of this I'm certain. Your success going forward, however, will not be so easily achieved.”

Luke gnawed on his lip and slid out of Vader’s expensive car, closing the door behind him. “I'm in,” he said finally. 

“You may have more time to think it over, if you wish.” Triumph was evident in Vader’s tone. He turned slowly and walked back towards the barn, Luke hot on his heels. 

“I don't need more time,” Luke persisted. “You have something to prove, well so do I. Leia already won the show jumping sub-adult category. If I beat Galen--”

“ _When_ you beat Galen.”

“--then both of the sub-adult competitions will have been won by the Alliance’s riders. Our group is finally making a name for itself in the riding world, and I want to do my part.”

“I'm well aware of the Alliance’s growing popularity. Your little Association is the subject of many conversations.”

Luke paused, unsure of how to answer. “Good conversations?” he asked as they stepped into the main barn. “Or bad ones?”

“Both, of course. Horse riders have many opinions.”

Luke snorted. “You've got that right.”

Vader scooped up a bag of carrots from the ground beside Lady Ex’s stall, offering the Friesian a carrot before he placed them in a cubby next to her home. “Would you like to help me take her outside?” Vader asked Luke. “Her pasture is on the other side of the stable.”

Luke grinned at the offering, but shook his head. “I should get back to Mothma and Leia. They’ll be waiting for me.”

Vader nodded, dejection crossing his face for a moment before it bled into the shadows. “Very well,” he said. Luke gave him a tentative smile and small wave before pushing his hands into the pockets of his riding breeches and walking back towards the spectators stand. 

________

“Good boy, Artoo,” Luke beamed as he brushed through the horse’s tail. Artoo’s tail was black and white, with the black hidden underneath a slew of cream colored hair. Every now and then, Artoo tended to sidestep away from Luke when he lingered around the horses behind. He didn't love it when his human brushed his tail, but sometimes it was necessary. In the winter, Luke braided his tail, but in summer he left it free for Artoo to swat at flies. Leia did the same with Threepio, but she was also a fan of weaving his mane into intricate designs.

Speaking of Leia… 

“What did Vader want?” she asked. Leia was standing outside of Artoo’s stall while Luke groomed him inside. “C’mon, Mothma isn't here anymore, you can tell me!”

Luke just shrugged. “It was nothing.” He wasn't sure how open Vader was willing to be about their training, and since he feared Galen would overhear them, he stayed silent on the subject. 

“Quit stalling and tell me already!”

Luke sighed, glancing around. “Later, alright? I'll tell you at the hotel, but not here.”

Leia frowned. “Luke, I don't think--”

Luke glanced down at his plastic dollar store watch and frowned, desperate to ignore his shaking hands. “Can you hand me my bridle?”

Leia snatched it from the nail on the outside of the stall and handed it to him. “Whatever Vader wants, I don't think he has the best of intentions.”

Luke carefully took off Artoo’s halter and held the bit up to the horse’s lips. One Artoo opened up, he placed the bridle on his head, looping his ears between the brow band and the top of the headstall. “Don't worry, Leia,” he said, leading Artoo out of his stall. “Besides, there’s more important stuff going on now, remember? You got your first official blue ribbon! And at the Imperial Center, no less.”

Leia smiled gently at him, ruffling his hair. Her thoughts on the Imperial Center, much like the thoughts of several other riders, were conflicted. On one hand, the Center was needlessly expensive, filled to the brim with snobby riders. On the other, getting a blue ribbon “And you’re well on your way to getting yours.”

Luke smiled, nerves picking at his stomach. “Wish me luck.”

“You won't need it. Are you still having those nervous dreams?”

Luke shook his head. Those had stopped just yesterday. The day Vader made his offer, in fact 

“You've got this,” Leia encouraged him.

Luke smiled back. “I hope so.”

________

The first leg of the competition went by surprisingly easily. Mothma had told him that the steps would gradually become more difficult, but in order to keep things interesting, the competition was meant to start easy. 

Since the competition doubled as a fundraiser for the Animal Welfare Institute, it was progressing more like a bake-off in order to keep non-horse riders interested. Each round, a certain number of people would be eliminated. Then, during the final round, two opponents would compete to win the blue ribbon. 

The competition would become increasingly difficult as time went on, and since there were only three rounds, Luke was overjoyed when he completed his first one. _Only two more to go_ , he reminded himself. _If I'm not eliminated, that is._

Much like Vader predicted, Luke coasted through the first round with ease, scoring one point below Galen Marek, which placed him in second. 

As Luke exited the arena, he saw Vader standing off to the side of the stands, staring at him. Vader nodded to him once, and turned to walk back to the barn. Luke dismounted and led Artoo back to his stall. 

“C’mon, buddy,” he said, patting his neck. “You were perfect.”

Sure enough, two hours later, Luke was announced to be second to Galen, and three other riders were eliminated, leaving Luke, Galen, and three other riders to do better in round 2. Luke took a deep breath, nodding to himself at the announcement. 

“You did it!” Leia cheered. “C’mon; this calls for a celebratory smoothie.”

Luke nodded, letting her grab his shaking hands and drag him towards Mothma’s car. Maybe he could do this after all.

________

“He wants to _train you_?!” Leia cried. 

“Apparently,” Luke said. “He let me feed his horse.”

Leia shook her head, pacing nervously around his hotel room. “Are you sure you didn't mishear him?”

“Very. We’ve had like, two conversations about it. I don't think I could mishear two conversations.”

“And you think he’s telling the truth? That he wants to help you, and that he has something to prove?”

“Yes, but I don't know what he could possibly need to prove to anyone. He’s one of the most well-known trainers of all time.”

“Maybe he wants to show the world that he can train you in three days better than Mothma could in three years.”

Luke frowned. “It doesn't feel like that. It’s not a vengeful ‘I need to prove something’, if that makes sense.”

“It doesn't.”

Luke sighed, and rubbed his eyes. “Should I tell Mothma?”

“Well, if you keep it secret, I doubt she’ll be happy with you when she finds out. Besides, you're awful at lying to authority figures.”

“I know. But that doesn't make it any easier to tell the truth.”

Leia snorted. “Mothwoman will take it fine. She's not phased by much.”

“I practically pledged myself to Darth Vader, and made it even more likely for Galen Marek to come after me. I think _that_ might phase her a bit.”

________

Shockingly enough, it didn't. Mothma took the news calmly, and if Luke didn't know better, he'd have said she knew about it the whole time. This, of course, didn't stop her from calmly strolling up to Darth Vader the next morning and asking if he would please not steal her students, thank you very much. 

Normally, Luke would find this hilarious. Mothma calmly facing the other trainer with a judgemental eyebrow raise and a fearless stance was a fun sight to see. 

Of course, it would have been much more enjoyable if Galen Marek hadn't overheard the entire conversation. 

“You’re doing _what_?” he exclaimed, leaping between Mothma and Vader. His instructor sighed, turning away from him. 

“You like competition, do you not?” Vader snidely replied, not sparing Galen a second glance. He beckoned Luke to follow him to Lady Ex’s stall, ignoring the fact that Galen was hot on their heels. 

“Our conversation is not quite finished, Vader,” Mothma called after him serenely. 

Vader waved her off, prompting her to sigh. “I'm afraid we’ll have to continue this lovely chat at a later date, Mothma. Lady Ex still isn't fully tacked up, and she and I _do_ go on before you, seeing as how we have a higher score than you and your darling Appaloosa.”

“Hey,” Luke protested weakly as Mothma closed her eyes in frustration and led Leia away from the barn. “Yavin’s the best. Well, next to Artoo.”

“In your opinion, yes.”

“Hey!” Galen shouted, waving a hand rudely in front of Vader’s face. “Why the hell are you training that inexperienced fucking gay-ass twink? I'm your student!”

“Hey!” Luke exclaimed, shocked at the unwarranted scream. “Don't call me that.”

“I'm more than allowed to have multiple students, Marek,” Vader growled, turning sharply to the trainee and wagging a finger in his face. “I do not appreciate it, however, when my students use such foul language to describe one another. It would be in your best interests to take that comment back this instant.”

“No,” Galen sneered back. “Why take back the truth? You're choosing _him_ over me. You’re choosing some country boy faggo--”

Vader growled, and clapped a hand over Galen’s mouth. “Do not think that I won't throw you out of here, Marek. You’ve gotten on my nerves for the last time, and such actions will not be tolerated here. This stable is a safe place for all, and I will not have you taint it’s reputation as such.”

Marek shoved himself away from Vader, a wild eyed glare shooting towards the man. “Fine. I'll beat your little trainee, anyways. You’re going down, Skywalker,” he snapped. Luke flinched away from him, backing into Lady Ex’s stall door. The horse whinnied lowly, dipping her head to bump his shoulder with her nose. 

“I don't believe he is,” Vader snarled, stepping protectively in front of the boy. 

Galen just scoffed at him. “You were a trashy instructor, anyways. You never appreciated my talents.”

“He talked you up a lot, when we first met,” Luke said from behind Vader, his voice hoarse as he held back the urge to cry. “Said you needed to improve, but that you’d beat me in a heartbeat.”

Galen wrinkled his nose at Luke, annoyed at the contradiction, and turned on his heel, marching away. “See you in the arena, Skywalker,” he snapped.

Vader stayed standing in front of Luke for a full minute after Galen marched away, as if he was worried the boy would come out of the shadows and attack Luke yet again. Once he was sure Galen was gone, he snarled and paced up and down the aisle. “I'll have him thrown out of the competition,” he said to himself. “Not to mention turned away from every decent barn in a 200-mile radius. Of course, I'll have to kick him out of here for that to take it’s full effect, but Palpatine will surely--”

“You don't have to do any of that,” Luke said shakily, still backed against the stall door. “Not for me. It'll just cause trouble and I'm not worth all that.”

Vader paused to stare at him. “You are worth more than you could possibly know.”

Luke shivered, unsure of how to respond. “I should go find Artoo…” 

“Your horse is lingering in his pasture, I believe,” Vader said stiffly. “Are you… alright?”

Luke scoffed. _Would you be alright_? he wanted to ask. Instead, he bit out a strangled, “I'm fine,” and turned towards the exit of the barn. 

“Lady Ex can be helpful at times like these,” Vader said hesitantly.

Luke laughed semi-hysterically. “Artoo lets me hug him. I don't think Lady Ex will be too into that.”

“You would be surprised. She can be quite affectionate at times.”

Luke eyed the horse nervously and motioned to her stall. “Can I…”

“Of course,” Vader said, sliding the door open a crack for Luke to slip in. He cautiously stepped into the stall, holding out a hesitant hand to say hello. 

“Hey, girl,” he hummed. “It’s me, Carrot Kid. Remember me?”

The horse bobbed her head, leaning forward to sniff his outstretched hand. She looked at him with wide eyes, and slowly stepped closer to him to bump her head into his chest. Luke stumbled back a step with a laugh. “Easy, girl.”

She whinnied again, and Luke frowned. “Hey, what’s the matter?” he asked, reaching out to pat her neck. 

“My Lady is very intuitive,” said an unfamiliar man who stepped up to stand beside Vader. Luke turned to see the man from yesterday, Firmus Piett, standing in front of him. Piett smiled kindly, and continued. “She can most likely feel your distress.”

“Most horses can,” Luke nodded, thinking of Artoo’s ability to read his emotions. 

“She’s always been especially sensitive,” Vader acknowledged. 

Luke stepped closer to her, glancing to Vader for guidance. When the man simply nodded, Luke reached for Lady Ex and wrapped his arms around her neck. She tilted her head down to nuzzle his side and he sniffled, muffling his tears in her shiny black coat. 

Hopefully, his day would improve. 

________

That day, once Vader completed his wing of the competition, Luke and Artoo tacked up and walked to the small arena where they had first met Galen. Vader met them there. 

“Are you ready?” he asked Luke. 

The boy looked away, nervously. “I hope so.”

He wasn't ready. 

Vader’s training regime was strict and harsh. He snapped out order’s quickly, and allowed Luke to lead himself through a short free-style routine before instructing him to transition from a canter into an extended trot. 

Luke frowned all the while. Finally, when Vader called for him to stop, he turned to the man and sighed, “We didn't talk much about my technical skills.”

“Worry not, young one; we’re getting there. Take your feet out of the stirrups. Heels down, toes up.”

Luke did as he was told. 

“Drop the reins, you may pick them up if needed, but only if you’ve no other choice.”

Luke dropped the reins, leaving his arms at his sides. “What next?” he asked sarcastically. “Would you like me to wave my hands in the air like I don't care?”

“Yes,” Vader replied. Luke gaped at him, but Vader just motioned for him to put his arms up, and Luke did so. “I'm sure you're questioning the point of this exercise.”

 _As well as your sanity_ , Luke thought as he sat atop his stationary horse with his hands in the air and his feet dangling out of the stirrups. He didn't voice his thoughts, though, and cocked his head at Vader in confusion. 

“You may start walking,” Vader said, and Luke clicked for Artoo to move forward. “Feel the fluidity of your horse's motions in relation to the tense nature of your body. Are your legs tense, at the moment?”

“Well, yeah,” Luke shrugged. “It’s harder to keep my heels down when I don't have the stirrups to use as leverage. Plus, I feel like an idiot.”

Vader ignored his last comment, but nodded at the first. “You may resume your original position.”

Luke did so, and settled in his seat slowly. “So, what exactly _was_ the point of that?” 

“When you first got on, you were quite tense as a result of our prior confrontation with Galen. He unnerved you, which stunted your performance. The exercise was meant to help you relax, and I believe it succeeded.”

Luke snorted. “You made me look like an idiot so I'd calm down?”

“All riders look like an idiot at one point or another,” Vader sighed. “There are compilations online of ‘Horse Fails’ that showcase this quite clearly.”

Luke laughed again, shaking his head at Vader. “I'm sure you’ve never looked like an idiot.”

“You'd be surprised, young one. You'd be surprised.”

________

When Luke went up to compete that day, he realized that the judges hadn't called Galen Marek’s name to identify him as a contestant. When he brought this up to Mothma, she simply shrugged her shoulders and dismissed it. 

“I'm sure it’s nothing,” she told him. “Regardless, don't worry yourself over it. Focus on the competition.”

It was easier said than done. 

Luke made it into the finals that day, but couldn't help but feel as if he cheated. 

________

“Good morning,” Vader greeted him cordially the next day. Luke looked up at him, shocked to see him walking to the outside of Artoo’s stall. Normally, they’d meet by Lady Ex. 

“Uh, morning!” Luke smiled. He was feeding Artoo from a bag of treats he had gotten at the end of the school year. His uncle didn't make it through his junior year of high school, so the fact that Luke was set to be a senior next year was cause for celebration. 

“How is he?” Vader asked, nodding to Artoo. 

“Picking up on my nerves, but other than that he’s fine. Wanna give him a treat?”

Vader nodded, and Luke handed him a small treat to feed the Paint. “I didn't realize he had a watch eye.”

Luke nodded, glancing between Artoo’s different colored eyes. “His brown eye is pretty basic. The blue eye creeps me out sometimes, because it’s always watching me, but it makes him unique.”

“He’s beautiful.”

“He's a very handsome pony. Lady Ex is gorgeous, though.”

“That she is. She was quite different looking when I received her, though.”

“How _did_ you find her? I know she was a rescue, but…”

“It involved me, Piett, and a goldfish, but that’s a story for another time. How did you obtain Artoo?”

Luke narrowed his eyes at the mention of a goldfish, but said, “There was this elderly man, named Ben Kenobi. He had cancer, and needed the money he used on Artoo to pay his medical bills. We got him for a low price, ‘cause he was our neighbor.”

“$2,000 is not much to pay for a good horse.”

“Yeah, well, it sure didn't feel like that when I was paying it.”

Vader nodded as if he understood Luke’s struggle, an idea Luke couldn’t fathom. Part of him did wonder, though, if Vader had come from poverty. He mentioned that Luke never took anything for granted, but he never seemed to, either. 

“I’ll see you after I compete,” Vader swiftly changed the subject. “No hard feelings, of course, when I force your instructor into second place?”

His tone was joking, and Luke laughed. “No hard feelings. But Mothma won’t go down without a fight. Don’t think for a second that it'll be easy for you.”

Vader inclined his head in acknowledgment before turning on his heel and leaving the guest barn, Luke watching him go with a challenging smile. 

___________________

Vader beat Mothma by 17.5 points. It was expected, of course, but saddening nonetheless. Regardless, though, Mothma didn’t allow Luke to give her a moment of his time. 

“Go,” she said, prompting him towards the largest barn where she knew Vader would be. “We’re leaving Monday, so this could be your last chance to get a lesson from the best.”

Luke shook his head. “You’ll always be the best, Mothma.”

She smiled at him, but bopped him on the back of the head. “Flattery will get you nowhere. Now, I don’t entirely approve of this, but even _I_ have to admit that Vader’s damn good at his job. Go be a rockstar, Luke. You’ve earned it.”

He flushed and looked to Leia, hoping for a snide remark to knock him down a peg. She just beamed at him, ruffling his hair. “Be back in time for lunch.”

Luke didn’t know it at the time, but there was no way he’d be back in time for lunch.

__________

“So, you… what? Take care of everything?” Luke asked with a furrowed brow as he walked with Vader through the main barn. 

“Schedules for the stable workers,” he sighed, “arrangements for fundraisers and competitions, and many other responsibilities.”

“Wow. It must be tough to be saddled with all that responsibility,” Luke winced. 

“It is not without its benefits. My horse prospers as a result of the extra work I do. It’s a small price to pay for her safety.”

Luke nodded. It sounded like a lot of work, but he would move mountains for Artoo. He definitely understood.

“So, what are we doing today? More technical work?”

“Yes,” Vader replied, “though I decided we should give Artoo a break. It’s much hotter here today than what he must be used to, so I was considering allowing you to ride Lady Ex.”

He walked on, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Luke, but the trainee stopped in his tracks. “ _What_?”

Vader looked back at him and motioned for him to keep walking, so Luke hurried to the man’s side. “What? WHAT?”

“I did not think you would react so harshly,” Vader said, but Luke didn’t miss the twinge of satisfaction in his voice. He enjoyed Luke’s shock. That jerk!

“But why?” Luke asked. 

“If you would rather ride Artoo, then—“

“No, I just—why? You’ve known me for less than a week. Why let me ride the one thing you care about more than anything else in the world?”

Vader's steps faltered for a moment. “It would seem that Lady Ex is no longer the one thing I care most about,” he said slowly. 

“What could possibly be more important than your horse? It’s not like you have kids, or anything.”

The corners of Vader’s eyes crinkled, as if he knew something Luke did not. “Indeed. It’s not like I have kids or anything.”

The man refused to elaborate any further than that, so Luke just sighed dejectedly and waited in the corner of the barn while Vader found Lady Ex another saddle that was more suited to fit Luke. 

“I believed my seat size would be a touch large for you,” Vader explained as he raised the stirrups of the saddle. 

“Probably right,” Luke agreed softly, still in awe at the mere idea of riding Lady Ex. The Friesian was much different than what Luke was used to; she was a full hand taller than Artoo, and, though Luke loathed to admit it, was much more advanced than the 12 year old Paint, even though she was only two years his senior. 

Riding her would be an experience, one that most people would never even think of. After all… 

“Aren’t you the only one who rides her?” Luke questioned Vader, handing him Lady Ex’s bridle. 

“For a long while, yes,” Vader acknowledged. “It will be odd for her to have another rider on her back, though I’m sure she’ll remain unfazed.”

“I don’t get it. Why am I, of all people, the only other person who gets to ride her?”

Vader glanced down at him, then looked away sharply. He placed the bridle on her head, securing it with a throat latch and the curb chain. “Do you have your helmet?” 

“Right here,” Luke nodded. “You never answered my question.”

“You will know soon enough.”

“Why can’t I know now?”

Vader paused, then handed the reins to Luke, allowing him to lead Lady Ex out to the small arena. “I’m not sure you will like what you hear.”

__________

Riding Lady Ex was different, in a jaw-droppingly amazing way. Of course, Luke would prefer Artoo over her any day of the week (he was loyal that way), but still, riding the Lady was an experience he would never forget. 

The Friesian moved differently than Artoo, who, while he was a great dressage horse, had a slow, Western-pleasure esque jog. Her extended trot was seamless, while Artoo’s could be hard to comfortably post through.

That being said, though, he still preferred his own horse over Vader’s. So when the competition that night went seamlessly, he was overjoyed. 

Luke was competing against Madine’s student, Wedge, a kind and funny boy just a year older than Luke. The age group reached from ages 12-19, though they had started with only eight competitors. He knew, though, that Wedge wasn't the one he was meant to go up against.

“Why did you kick Galen out of the competition?” he asked Vader as he brushed Artoo off with a curry comb. 

“Did I tell you I did such a thing?”

“You didn't have to.”

Vader was silent for a while, and Luke wondered if he had spoken too softly. After a few minutes passed, Luke began picking out Artoo’s feet, and Vader finally answered. “I did not believe that after he said such hurtful things, he had a place in the competition.”

Luke dropped, Artoo’s hoof and straightened up, staring at Vader reproachfully. “That wasn't your decision to make.”

“I could not idly stand by as he--”

“I _told you_ to leave it!” 

“And you should not have! That boy insulted you. He said--”

“Yeah, I know what he said, I was there. That doesn't mean you should’ve kicked him out of the competition!”

“Did you not wish to take your revenge?”

“Sure, but by beating him! By winning, fair and square, not by--” Luke cut himself off with a frustrated groan, turning back to Artoo to run a hand through the horse’s mane. Artoo nickered softly at him in response to his anger. “Just tell me you didn’t kick him out of the stable.”

Vader schooled his expression. “I merely implied that he should go.”

“Vader, you _didn’t!_ C’mon, I asked you to leave him alone!”

“I did not believe you would adequately plan your revenge, so alternate measures had to be taken!”

“I didn't need to _plan my revenge_ , I was fine with just beating him today and never having to see him again. I told you I was fine, so why did you—”

“You may not have wished for me to take action,” Vader snapped, “but no one at this stable will get away with saying such things, much less my own students.”

“Then you could've waited until after the competition!”

“I was defending you. That couldn't wait!”

“I don't need anyone to defend me!”

“I disagree.”

“Why? Why do you care? It's not like you actually know me. We met less than a week ago!”

“I know more about you than you could possibly fathom.”

“Like what?” Vader didn't answer, and Luke sighed. “I didn't think so. You know, all these secrets of yours are getting on my nerves. We’ll never even see each other again after I leave on Monday!”

Vader winced. “I hoped I would be able to persuade you otherwise.”

“What?”

“Since Galen left, there is an open stall here.”

“ _What?_ No way, I'm with the Alliance. Besides, I don't have the money to pay for this!”

“I could cover the funds.”

“No. No way.”

“You're making a mistake. The training you could receive here is unparalleled to any other stable in the country, not to mention Artoo’s living facilities will be much more suitable for his needs.”

“My stable is just fine, thank you!” Luke glared at him. 

“You'll have many more chances and opportunities should you transfer Artoo here.”

“Yeah, and I'll never be able to take them, because I live three hours away! Besides, I don't have the cash to pay for that, and I can't take money from you.”

“Attending the Imperial Center is your right.”

“I think I'll pass. Besides, you have no reason to offer this! Even if I did want to leave the Alliance, I don't have money, and you have no reason to pay for my boarding fees.”

Vader opened his mouth to defend himself, but instead told Luke, “I do not wish to alarm before the final round of the competition, or I would further explain my reasoning.”

“He said, after offering to pay thousands of dollars to help me board my horse at a barn three hours away from my house,” Luke narrated sarcastically.

“You would be wise not to question me, young one.”

“I'll question you all I want. Besides, why would I even _want_ to stay here? So you can hover over me and tell me what to do?”

“I don't _hover_ \--”

“Really? Then what happened with Galen?”

“I was defending you!”

“You're not my father!” Luke shouted, his hands balled into fists at his side. “You have no right to tell me what to do.”

“You have no idea what I do and do not have rights to, Skywalker,” Vader snapped coldly after a stunned pause. “The sooner you realize that, the sooner you’ll understand your place in this world.”

With that, the man spun on his heel and marched away from Luke, never looking back.

________

Luke’s performance went by in the blink of an eye. Once he finished, he gave Artoo a celebratory pat on the neck and looked through the stands to locate Vader. Unsurprisingly, though a touch dishearteningly, the man was absent. Luke knew better than to expect him to attend after the argument they had outside Artoo’s stall, but it still stung. For a moment, part of him had thought Vader cared. 

Nonetheless, Luke placed Artoo back in his stall and walked out to the arena, ready for the judges to give the final verdict. Oddly enough, though, when he arrived at the stands next to Mothma and Leia, he was met with the sight of another rider pulling a slightly unwilling horse into the arena. 

“What’s going on?” Luke asked. There was an intermission while the judges determined the winner, so whoever was dragging that horse into the arena certainly wasn't competing. 

“It's Galen,” Leia breathed in shock. Luke glanced back to the entrance of the arena, squinting at the rider. If it was Galen, his back was to him, and that certainly wasn't his horse. The tall raven-haired horse was much different than Galen’s Arabian, at least from what Luke could see of the horses behind. When Galen turned the horse towards teh fence so he could mount it, though, Luke gasped in shock. 

“That's Lady Ex,” he breathed. Mothma’s eyebrows raised as she, too, recognized the horse, while Leia just scoffed in disbelief. 

“Don't be ridiculous,” she said. “Vader doesn't let anyone ride his horse. Well, except for you, but he didn't seem too fond of Galen just yesterday. I doubt he’d let him ride Lady Ex.”

“That, dear,” Mothma stood, “is the problem.”

She strolled casually towards the fence of the arena, Luke and Leia trailing behind her. Galen stepped on the bottom rung of the fence,and Luke and Leia gaped at one another in shock. “I mean, I knew he was going to get on her,” Leia said, “but this just seems ridiculous.”

Luke nodded in agreement. “He’s going to get himself killed.” They seemed to be the only ones paying attention to the scene progressing in front of them, as all of the other spectators were either buried in their phones or conversing politely between one another. So when Mothma stepped over to Galen just as he attempted to mount the horse, people started to stare. 

“Young man,” she said, “I don't believe that horse belongs to you.”

Galen sneered at her. “Yeah, no shit lady. But I saw _him_ ,” he pointed an accusatory finger towards Luke, “riding her earlier today. If Vader let some farm boy shit like you ride her, I should get my chance, too.”

“She doesn't seem too happy with that,” Luke observed, watching Lady Ex pin her ears back and shift her feet nervously. 

“She can deal with it.”

And with that, Galen swung his leg over his side and tapped her sharply with his spurs, urging her to go. As you can imagine, jumping on a horse who you’ve never interacted with before, and who’s only been ridden by two different people in the past ten years, isn't the best of ideas. 

Lady Ex stepped a few feet away from the white fence, crow hopped, and reared up, bucking Galen off in the span of thirty seconds. The presumptuous rider landed on the dirt of the arena with a shout, calling everyone’s attention to him. 

Luke watched, horrified, as Lady Ex sprinted to the other side of the arena and spun back around, making a beeline for the exit. 

“Leia, get the gate,” he hollered, ducking between the wooden planks of the fence to step into the arena. He glanced around once more, searching for Vader, but the man was nowhere to be seen. “It's at times like these when I really wish I kept carrots in my pocket.”

Leia barred off the exit, containing Lady Ex in the arena. The Friesian bucked again, though this time there was no one to kick off. Luke stretched his arms out white and slowly stepped into her driveline. “Hey, girl,” he called out softly. She slowed down to a trot, running in circles through the arena. “It’s me, Carrot Kid. I don't know where your owner is, but right now I'm the best you’ve got.”

Her ears were still pinned back, and she snorted, tossing her head. 

“Gee, thanks a lot,” he sighed. “I could always leave you with Galen…” 

Luke could've sworn she gave him a dirty look, slowing herself down again. In her haste to get away from Galen, the reins had been knocked awry, and were caught on her ears. “Want me to get that for you?” he asked soothingly. He slowly walked towards the Lady, and she slowed down to a walk, eventually halting completely. 

Luke pulled the reins down from around her ears, holding them tightly in his shaking hands. “You alright?” he called back to Galen, never looking away from Lady Ex. 

“Why do you care?” the boy groaned back, still curled up on the ground, holding his arm. 

Luke sighed and ignored him, cautiously stroking Lady Ex’s nose instead. She was calm now, sure, but she was still breathing heavily and tossing her head every now and then. Horses can be dangerous, especially in situations like this. 

About five minutes later, Vader rushed into the arena, Piett hurrying after him. Piett pulled Galen to his feet while Vader made a beeline for the horse. He grabbed the reins out of Luke’s hand, reaching out to rub down her neck. 

“What were you thinking?” Piett hissed to Galen. “We thought she was stolen!”

“I wanted to prove that I could do it,” Galen defended himself. “At least, that I could do it better than the farm boy brat.”

Luke flinched, and Vader spun around to glare at Galen. Before he could threaten the boy, though, Luke said, “She wasn't crazy about having me on her back. She held back a bit, I could tell, and Vader was holding her while I got on. And from what I've heard, I've interacted with her more in less than a week than you have in years. If I couldn't get on without Vader holding her, I doubt you could.”

Galen scowled at Luke,opening his mouth to speak. Vader waved him off, and said, “Piett. Take him to my office. Luke and I will untack Lady, and then believe me, Galen, there is much for us to discuss.”

“You can't keep me here!” Galen exclaimed while Luke looked at Vader with surprise. 

“I thought you were mad at me,” he mumbled. 

Vader sent him a pointed glance, his eyes screaming _later_. “No, Galen, we cannot. But I'd heavily advise you to stay. I have agency in the riding world, remember. It would be a shame if no self-respecting stable in the country would take you in.”

“Are you _threatening_ me?”

“Yes,” Piett sighed in unison with Luke, while Vader snapped, “Clearly.” 

Galen gaped at the three of them, then shoved himself away from Piett, holding his head up high to muster up the last of his dignity. The trio watched him go with identical frowns marring their faces. 

Piett sighed tiredly, shaking his head. Luke winced in sympathy. From the way Vader's assistant reacted to the whole ordeal, he could infer that this kind of thing happened a lot. He watched the man leave the arena in Galen’s footsteps and sighed. 

“That man seems like he deserves a raise,” Luke told Vader. The man just snorted. 

“Piett deserves many things,” he said. “A raise is the least of what he's earned.”

“Good to know,” Luke replied awkwardly, not quite sure how to respond. Instead, he stroked Lady Ex’s nose once before Vader turned and walked her back towards the main barn. 

“Are you coming?” asked Vader when he reached the gate and realized that Luke was still standing in the center of the arena. 

“Oh!” Luke exclaimed, hurrying after him. “Well, yes, but I'm still hangry at you.”

“Hangry?”

“I haven't had dinner yet, so that isn't helping your case.”

Vader gave him an unimpressed frown, and Luke opened the gate. “Worry not, young one, surely that will be rectified.”

_______

Half an hour later, Luke was slumped in the front seat of Vader’s car, sipping a chocolate milkshake from Shake Shack. Vader warily eyed the greasy food Luke had plopped on the dashboard. “I cannot comprehend why, when given a choice of any restaurant in a twenty mile radius, you chose ‘Shake Shack.’”

Luke shrugged. “It’s easier than dressing up for some stuffy dine-in place.”

“Besides,” amended Leia from the back seat. “I'm on my period, and I've got french fry cravings.”

Vader gave her a disgruntled glare in the rearview mirror, and she just shrugged, dipping a wavy fry into her milkshake. When Vader announced that he was taking Luke out to eat, Leia demanded to be brought along. Whether this was out of hunger, spite, or the urge to protect Luke, Vader didn't know. What he did know, however, was that she was a nuisance. 

“So,” Luke mumbled through a mouthful of cheeseburger, “what did you wanna tell me?”

Vader glanced at Leia, then back at Luke. “I don't think--”

“Anything you want to say to him, you can say to both of us,” Leia insisted. “And Luke, please chew and swallow before you speak.”

Luke shrugged, taking another slurp of his milkshake. He motioned for Vader to continue. “Well,” the instructor said, clearly uncomfortable with Leia’s presence in the back seat, “seventeen years ago, I changed my name after I lost my wife. She was the most important thing in my life, and… without her, I didn't want to be the person I was.”

“I'm sorry,” Luke said. “That sounds awful.”

“Yes, but what does it have to do with Luke?” Leia snapped. 

“My wife was pregnant when she passed,” Vader continued. “I was out of town at the time, and when I arrived back home, I was informed that she lost both her life and our baby.”

Leia winced, regretting her harsh demeanor. “I'm sor--”

“Evidently, that was a lie.”

“Wait, what?” Luke asked. “So your kid’s alive?”

“Well… before I changed my name, I was known as Anakin Skywalker.”

It all went downhill from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of this, I've done. I've dealt with burs in manes and tails, and ridden in a lake. Oh, and tbh, I know some horse people are stuck up, but most of us just sing 'I like big butts and i cannot lie' whenever we see giant draft horses and make our horses think we're insane psychopaths while doing so. also puns, of course. 
> 
> Alright, now on the actual writing: Vader being bad at social interaction wl Luke and just being like "fEeD mY hOrSe A cArRoT!" sums up my life. Also, I wrote competitions totally wrong. But this is like a bake-off with horses, kind of, for the fundraiser part of it, to keep people around and get more money for the charity. Also, the glamour surrounding the whole 'horse riding' thing in this is totally not true. In reality, half of owning a horse is cleaning up after it, and trying to catch it in the pasture, and walking like a thousand feet to get your horse in the freezing cold during winter, not to mention sleeping in a horse trailer during actual long trail rides. Then there's slipping and falling on ice, of course, and freezing in the barn during winter, and carrying hay around... it's worth it, obviously, but it's not as effortless as it seems in this. 
> 
> Also, the reason why Vader letting Luke ride Lady Ex is such a big deal is because it's basically Vader giving Luke the ability to control the one being (other than his newly discovered son) that matters more to him than anything else in the world. Imagine if you had one friend who was there for you for ten years, and was your only friend and only social connection. Then, imagine giving someone else your friend for the day, and trusting them not to mess up their mouth or kick them too hard. It's kind of a trust thing, which is why Galen was never allowed to get on her but Luke was within the first few days of meeting Vader. 
> 
> Come scream at me on tumblr @togandtoyler . And if anyone ended up skipping it, links to the inspiration for the horses are in the top note! 
> 
> Thank you all for actually reading my entirely too self indulgent oneshot! Time to vote, bbs!
> 
>  **(RED)** Luke, Vader, and Piett are stranded together after a shuttle crash  
>  **(ORANGE)** Vader is rescued by Luke  
>  **(YELLOW)** Luke is a musician and Vader learns of his existence through that  
>  **(GREEN)** Vader realizes Leia is his kid before ANH  
>  **(BLUE)** time travel three shot (if you vote for this,pls tell me what generation/time frame you want it to be set in! I'll do a saga of Luke traveling to three different times, first by himself, then with Vader, then wl Leia. thinking of taking him alone to ANH, wl Vader to the clone wars, and idk where wl Vader and Leia)  
>  **(INDIGO)** There's a peace treaty between the Rebellion and the Empire after the death of Palpatine (maybe an extension of this universe where Piett helped to raise Luke. it would be revealed that Leia is Vader's daughter here)[I could also make it set after Palpatine dies in the OG trilogy, but everyone else lives bc Piett deserved better.]  
> Love you all! Bye
> 
> (p.s.: be happy!)
> 
> (p.p.s.: sorry this was so long! i promise, i'll REIN it in next time ;DDDD)


	14. Losing Wisdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke gets his Wisdom Teeth removed. Vader, of course, stops by at a very untimely moment. Cue a drugged Luke being brought to the Executor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to write either Blue or Red, cause they were tied last chapter, but, thanks to writers block and exhaustion, I failed. My apologies.  
> Anyways, I didn’t want you to be forced to wait until inspiration strikes on either Red or Blue, so I gift to you 7277 words of tired rambling I produced at 2:00 AM. E N J O Y!
> 
> (Also, I was planning on posting this a few hours ago, but I was accosted by a two year old, so my plans changed ;p)
> 
> (Also:  
> ME, EXPLANING TO MY FATHER HOW THE SONG "BAA BAA BLACK SHEEP" IS TALKING ABOUT RACISM AND SLAVE CULTURE: yeet yeet ya yeet yeet. 
> 
> MY FATHER, A CONSERVATIVE: how do you sleep at night?
> 
> ME: hA! do I look WEAK to u???  
> ...
> 
> MY MOM: why are u so moody? did you get no sleep last night?
> 
> ME: i NeVeR sLeEp!
> 
> MY MOM: ur not always moody
> 
> ME: you. took. my. C o F f E e.  
> ...
> 
> ME, AT 4:06 AM: corn and clocks, bitches
> 
> ALSO ME: 'responsibility?' ha! i laugh in the face of obligations  
> ...
> 
> REWRITING NURSERY RHYMES: 1,2, fuck on my shoe. 3, 4, close the damn door! 5, 6, don't be a bitch. 7, 8, don't use your hate. 9, 10, do it again! 
> 
> INTERPRETING NURSERY RHYMES: Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed--Child Neglect. 
> 
> SINGING NURSERY RHYMES: lalalallalalalalalalalalalalala llamas bitch)
> 
> Well, I think that shows about how much coffee I've had today. Enjoy! Also, nursery rhymes have literally nothing to do with this chapter. Aren't you glad you read that whole spiel for nothing? :D
> 
> I love you all! Sorry for my crazy mood, the Grim Reaper and I just had the craziest chat and I'm really tired because I've been watching a two year old for the past few hours.

Luke winced, rubbing the side of his jaw. “It’s not that bad, Leia.”

“It’s distracting you from doing your job!” she insisted in a hushed whisper, the large bun atop her head bumping into the hull of his X-Wing. “Besides, Luke, you know I hate seeing you in pain.”

“I'm not in pain! It's just a little sore, that’s all.”

“A _little_ sore? Luke, I had Wisdom Teeth, too. You aren't fooling anyone.”

“I have things to do here! A squadron to command, an Empire to overthrow--”

“That can wait,” Leia crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “Look, I talked to High Command--”

“About my _Wisdom Teeth_?”

“--and there’s a small medbay that’s willing to help us out. The Empire doesn't know about them, and they operate underground, helping escaped slaves and people like us.”

“You’re making too big of a deal about this!”

“Your teeth are stuck in your bones, Luke. I'm not making too big a deal of anything.”

“I'm fine, Leia, honestly!”

“You aren't, Luke. High Command wants you to get this operation. They need you at your best for your return to the field.”

“This is _ridi_ \--”

“In fact, they’re insistent upon it.”

“About my _Wisdom Teeth_?” he repeated. “Leia, this is preposterous!”

Leia’s hard features softened a touch, and she stepped closer to Luke, grabbing his arm. “The sooner you get them taken out, the sooner you can go back into the field. And the sooner we can save Han. He’s been there for months, Luke! Who knows what they've done to him.”

Luke sighed at that, guilt welling up inside him. It was just a small surgery. It's not that big of a deal, and it’s not like it would somehow push him back within Vader’s grasp. “I guess you’re right… but I just want to get back to my missions. It’ll distract me from… ” 

Leia winced and glanced quickly at his mechanical hand, trying to smooth her features into something resembling… well. Anything but pity. She knew that wasn't what Luke needed. “I know,” she said. “But Mothma doesn't want you out there unless she knows you’re at your best.”

“I'm fine, Leia!”

“Luke, you’re doing this. Please? For my sake, if not for yours.”

“I just… I need to do something productive, Leia. I need to help! If I'm not helping people, if I'm not helping the Rebellion, I…” 

Leia was silent for a moment before she sighed. “The medbay is on Dantooine. Which, ironically, is where we’re planning on staying while we recover from Hoth.”

“Really?” Luke asked with a wry smile. Leia had told him about her short exchange with Tarkin on the Death Star; it always managed to bring a laugh out of those listening. It was proof, really, that even in the most dire situations, rebels will never fail to kriff with idiotic Imperials. 

“Really. We’re sending a small recon team forward, first, but our sources tell us that the Empire’s been keeping away from our old base.”

“They always have been pretty keen to ignore all their failures.”

Leia snorted. “Of course. Regardless, we’re thinking that Zev and a few of his troops will do recon, while you get your Wisdom Teeth removed.”

“You got _Zev_ in on this?”

“Of course. He jumped at the chance to take care of a drugged Jedi.”

“Of course he did, the traitor,” Luke scowled.

Leia laughed and clapped Luke on the shoulder. “Please, just think about it. It really is for the best.”

“Alright,” Luke finally sighed. “I'll think about it.”

Just a few hours later, (after Zev got _very_ persuasive) Luke decided to go through with the surgery. After all, it would only take a couple hours. What could possibly go wrong?

**(Authors Note: Vader. Vader could possibly go wrong.)**

________

Half a galaxy away, Vader stared out the bridge’s front viewport gloomily, his thoughts (of course) levelled towards his wayward son. 

His mental connection with Luke had strengthened after Bespin, but after their short and uneventful conversation while the _Millenium Falcon_ sped away, there had been nothing but radio-silence from the Jedi. Not for lack of trying on Vader’s part, of course--he mentally poked Luke every week since the incident, but his efforts were fruitless. Luke never replied, just strengthened his shields and turned away from his father. 

The Sith was disappointed, of course, but he shouldn't have expected anything different. Obi-Wan’s treachery ran deep. He had poisoned the boy against his own father, and because of this, Vader was left to pick up the pieces. Still, though, Vader felt a pang deep in his durasteel heart each time the boy rejected him. 

Nonetheless, soon, he would have Luke in his grasp, and all of his petty notions surrounding the Dark Side would be eliminated. It was not a matter of ‘if’ Luke turned to the Dark Side, it was a matter of ‘when’. Vader was a patient man, but he couldn't help but hope that Luke would see the truth sooner rather than later. 

This time apart did nothing for either of them. 

“Lord Vader,” clipped Admiral Piett as he stepped over to the Sith. The two stood at the front of the bridge, a clear view of the stars in front of them. “A star destroyer in the Raioballo sector has intercepted a transmission between a small medbay on Dantooine and a ship believed to have been stolen by the Rebel Alliance a few months past. It’s a cipher, sir, but I’ve got our best analysts looking it over as we speak.”

Vader’s heart lurched, the Force screaming in his ear. “Skywalker will be there,” he said with certainty.

Piett, who was used to Vader’s premonitions and took them far more seriously than his predecessor, simply nodded. “What arrangements would you like me to make, my lord?”

Behind his mask, Vader grinned. While the rest of the crew believed Vader wished to execute Skywalker for his crimes against the Empire, Piett had thought differently. His thoughts were confirmed when Vader called him to his personal quarters just two weeks after Bespin. 

During their little chat all those months ago, Vader had revealed the truth to Piett. That Skywalker was his son, and that he was hoping to destroy the Emperor and bring a new order to the galaxy. Needless to say, Piett walked back to his quarters and immediately checked ‘committing treason’ off his nonexistent bucket list.

Unfortunately for him, though, he was unable to keep his unrest from Veers, who immediately saw through Piett’s calm facade. Though the Admiral refused to tell him what he and Vader had discussed, Veers’ curiosity became increasingly difficult to beat away, and after just a week of needling, Piett prompted Vader to bring Veers into their scheme, and thus the three most accomplished, high standing Imperial Officers committed treason. 

There's never a dull day on the SSD _Executor_. The following events, of course, prove this marvelously.

“No arrangements necessary,” Vader answered smoothly. “His quarters are already set up across the hall from mine.”

“I will assist in any way I can to ensure we apprehend Skywalker.”

“Your allegiance is noted, Admiral Piett. Steer us towards Dantooine. _Now_.”

________

Luke held his jaw with a pained grunt, waving away Zev’s concern. “I'm fine.”

“And I'm an Imp,” Zev rolled his eyes. “How bad is it? Really?”

“On a scale of 1 to getting my hand chopped off, I’d say it’s a solid six.”

“We need to update your pain scale. ‘Getting my hand chopped off’ isn't an adequate measurement.”

“Isn't it?”

“For me, no. But I guess that you might be a special case.”

“Special is one word to describe me,” Luke grinned. 

“One of many,” Zev smiled back, reaching out a hand to clasp Luke’s shoulder. The two were standing on a stolen shuttle that was slowly descending towards Dantooine. “You still have a bad feeling about this, don't you?”

“Not necessarily _bad_ ,” Luke said, wrinkling his nose. “Not for you, at least. It’s just… _something’s_ gonna happen.”

“A good something?”

“An ‘eh’ something.”

“Not good and not bad. And you’re _sure_ it’s the Force? Not just nerves? You’re getting surgery, Luke. It’s perfectly natural to be afraid.”

“I’m just getting a couple teeth pulled,” he dismissed, then smirked, adopting a teasing tone in his voice. “When did you get your Wisdom Teeth out? Or did you not have any? After all, you Veers’ are far too perfect for the simple defects of other humans.”

Zev sniffed, delving into his Core accent, and tilted his chin up in a holier-than-thou stance. His voice dropped an octave as he told Luke, “It’s true. Us pure-bred Imperial’s are far above you Outer-Rim scum!”

Luke tried to keep a straight fact, but ended up dissolving into laughter. “Does he really talk like that?”

Zev’s grin faded, looking out a nearby viewport as he thought of his father, the one and only Maximilian Veers. Over the years, he and Luke had taken to imitating Imperials, spurred on by Luke’s Rogues. Wes had loved Zev’s imitations, and since he had been around Imperial’s his whole life, they were shockingly accurate. 

Any rebel worth their salt knew that Zevulon Veers could do a killer Grand Moff Tarkin impression, though his lesser-known General Veers mimicry was far more effortless. 

“No,” Zev amended finally, after a long pause. “I mean, his voice sounds like that, but he isn't as… biased. He doesn't give a damn where you’re from, so long as you can do your job and do it well.”

Luke nodded at that, thinking of his own father. He imagined Vader to be much the same, but truly had no idea what his father valued. “You're lucky,” he said. “To know, I mean.”

“Hopefully, you’ll know more about your father, too,” Zev said sadly. Luke winced. Zev was the only one he had told about his lineage. He was the only one who would ever understand.

“Hopefully, we both will.”

“I doubt I'll ever see my father again. You, on the other hand, just might rule the galaxy with yours!”

“Emperor Luke. Force, that’s terrifying.”

“Does that make me an Empress?”

“A consort, or co-Emperor, maybe. I don't exactly want my father to know about you. He knew about Han, and look where that got him,” Luke replied bitterly.

Zev winced. “Well. No need to worry. We won't be seeing Darth Vader anytime soon.”

Luke frowned as the Force twinged in disagreement. He wasn't so sure about that.

__FIVE__HOURS__LATER__

“Alright, Commander Skywalker,” said the doctor as xe placed a mask over Luke’s nose and mouth. “I need you to count down from ten, alright?”

Luke nodded in agreement, and started counting. “10… 9… 8… 7… 6……. 5…………”

Just before he reached 4, Luke felt Vader’s presence suddenly blare up in the back of his mind. He was above him, somewhere. Luke opened his mouth to warn the doctor, but before he could say a word, he was knocked out cold. 

________ 

Luke hazily blinked his eyes open, met with the sight of a dark, blurry figure standing in front of him. He squinted his eyes, desperate to make out the form in front of him. “Hullo?” he slurred finally, letting his eyes fall shut. 

“Hello, young one,” the figure rumbled, his tone slightly worried. “How are you feeling?”

“Is that you?”

“If you’re insinuating that I'm your father, then yes.”

“Oh…” Luke trailed off with a laugh. “Hi!”

“Hello.”

“My mouth feels funny. Like I'm chewing on clouds.”

“That would be the gauze.”

“Ohhhhh. Are the gaze why you’re all blurry?”

“Gauze,” Vader corrected him. “And no, young one, that would be the effects of the anesthesia.”

“Anna what?”

“Anesthesia. The drug that kept you under during surgery.”

“Bu--but--but… I DON’T DO DRUGS!” Luke wailed in sorrow. 

Vader’s vocoder made a stuttering sound which Luke could almost interpret as a laugh. “I know, young one.”

“Then wha--”

“Commander Skywalker,” acknowledged another blurry form that had been standing beside his shoulder since he woke up. The doctor--a twi’lek, maybe, Luke was too dazed to tell--sounded guilty, but it was nothing Luke bothered to focus on. He felt like he was floating! Why worry about anything? “On a scale of one to ten, how blurry is your vision?”

Luke giggled again, his eyes sliding shut. “I can't see anything!”

“That would be because your eyes are closed,” said Vader, clearly amused. 

“Really?” Luke gasped, his eyes popping open. “Holy kark nuts!”

“Language.”

“Uhhh… Huttese? Well, kark is, at least.”

“Your vision, Commander?” the doctor reminded him. Xe seemed sad, this time, which made Luke frown. 

“Why are you not happy?” Luke demanded. “Everything is rainbows and nothing hurts!”

“You're being placed in Imperial custody,” the doctor whispered to him unhappily, after looking worriedly at the Sith. Oh. 

“Doctor,” Vader cut in sharply. 

“I'm being _arrested_?!” Luke exclaimed. 

“Luke, no--”

“Oh, heck, this was _not_ how this day was s’posed to go--oh, Zev is gonna be _tickled_ , err, ticked. E chu ta, jerks! This is shavit.”

“ _Language_.”

“I told you, Huttese! And Basic, cause I'm a bilingual bitch.”

Vader’s vocoder crackled. “Once we arrive on the _Executor_ and your befuddlement wears away, we must have a serious conversation about your use of profanity.”

“E chu ta, you coward!”

“Stoopa!” Vader shot back, startling a laugh out of Luke. 

“You speak Huttese?!”

“Commander Skywalker,” the doctor called sternly. “Your vision.”

“Uh… kinda blurry? Like a three. Three is a _weird_ number--”

“When can we leave, doctor?” Vader asked. 

“Soon,” xe replied stiffly. “We have to wait until his vision isn't blurry anymore.” 

“Very well. I don't believe he’ll be able to walk, will he?”

“No. We have wheelchai--”

“I'll carry him,” Vader snapped protectively. Luke giggled. His father held back a sigh. The anesthesia was supposed to wear off in a mere five hours. In truth, though, those five hours would be the most amusing and taxing of Vader’s life. 

________

“Do you do drugs?” Luke asked him as Vader trudged out of the small medbay, carrying Luke towards a speeder. They were flanked by two stormtroopers, both of which were clones that served under Vader during the Clone War. “Cause your breathing is _really_ raspy, an’ my Grandpa Cliegg was like that before he died, cause he smoked a lot and it hurt his breathy-thingies.”

“I believe you’re referencing his lungs,” Vader said amusedly. “And no, young one, I do not smoke. Nor should you.”

“I don't. I say NO to drugs.”

“That’s good, Luke.”

“Chubba!” Luke yelled in Huttese waving his foot towards the stormtrooper on Vader’s right hand side. “What's your name?”

“I'm Foggy, kid,” the trooper replied cautiously, after Vader nodded for him to answer the boy. 

“Nice to meet you, Foggy. _DON'T DO DRUGS!”_

The stormtrooper choked back a laugh, covering it with a wheezing cough. “Uh, I'll keep that in mind, Skywalker.”

Luke hummed, and leaned his head against Vader’s shoulder. His arms were looped lazily around Vader’s neck, legs bouncing with each step the Sith took. “Skywalker,” he said. “Sky. Walker. Our name is fun. We walk on the sky!”

“Indeed we do, young one. We are pilots, are we not?”

“Pilots. Whooshy whooshy airplane smooshy. That’s what happens when we crash!”

Vader tried, but couldn't hold back a booming  
laugh that his vocoder couldn't quite decipher. He was under no delusions--he knew exactly how angered Luke would be once the anesthesia wore off. 

So he couldn't help but treasure this while he could. 

__________

“If you don't do drugs, why’s your voice all raspy?” Luke asked as they waited for a speeder to take them back to Vader’s shuttle. The stormtroopers had left, leaving just Luke and Vader on the side of the road. 

“That’s a story for another time,” Vader sighed. 

“But I wanna know _now_.”

Vader glanced down at Luke’s pleading eyes, and sharply looked away. His son had a face that no one could say no to. “Your old master and I got into a duel, just before you were born.”

“You and Master Yoda fought?” Luke exclaimed. “And he _won_? But he's a tiny old gremlin!”

“Yoda survived?” Vader growled. 

“Yeah, but he’s like… living his best life in a swamp, so I guess he’s best where he is.”

“How can one ‘live his best life’ in a swamp?”

“By hitting my shins and my droid,” Luke sulked. Vader winced. He had been a victim of Yoda's Shin Swats™ in his youth too; he knew exactly where Luke was coming from. 

“If it pleases you, I'll leave him alone,” Vader said begrudgingly. “But I was not talking about Yoda.”

“Oh… Ben?”

“Yes, Obi-Wan. We fought valiantly, but he had the upperground, in the end. He cut off my arms and legs, stole my lightsaber, and left me to burn.”

Luke frowned. “That bitch!”

“Watch your profanity,” Vader sighed tiredly. 

________

“Stop the speeder!” Luke shrieked. Vader slammed on the brake and the vehicle came to a screeching halt.

“What’s wrong?” he asked Luke, hand flying towards the hilt of his lightsaber. 

“Look at that poor tooka,” Luke whispered, tears misting up his eyes. Vader followed his line of sigh and slumped back into his seat. 

“You would be wise not to scare me as such, young one. I thought you were in danger.”

“The tooka is!” Luke whined. “I should go and help it.” 

He fumbled with the door handle, and Vader sighed, glad he had put it on child-lock. “You cannot help the tooka, Luke. You don't know where it’s been, what diseases its contracted.”

Luke looked at Vader, clearly heartbroken. “But I wanna help.”

“The tooka will be fine, and if it is not, that is simply the natural way of things.”

“But we can't just let it die!”

“If it cannot survive on its own, it has no place in nature.”

“Which is why we should take it with us!”

“We cannot take a feral--”

“It doesn't look feral! It looks sweet.”

“It's a wild tooka, young one. I doubt that it’s sweet.”

“I'm gonna get it.”

“No, Luke, leave the tooka!”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Ye-”

__Two__Minutes__Later__

Vader glared at the open road in front of him. Luke simply sang to himself, petting the wild tooka on his lap with ease. “What should we name you? I think Zev works--wait, no, you’re not supposed to know that.”

Vader frowned, glancing towards Luke. for a moment, he pondered the idea of chiding Luke on his determination to name a creature they were about to drop off at the nearest shelter, but instead, he focused on the latter part of his statement. “Not supposed to know what?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me, young one, or we’ll drop your tooka off now instead of at the shelter.”

“No! Leave Maxie alone! He hasn't done anything to you.”

“You should not name the cat. You’ve already grown too attached.”

“Maxie is my best friend!”

“ _Maxie_ has quite an odd name for a cat.”

“Leave him alone! He’s sensitive. Besides, Maxie is Zev’s dad’s name. Rude of you to insult your Gen--errrrr… Maxie’s so happy, isn't he?”

“Zev?” Vader cocked his head. “As in your friend who would be angry with you for being captured?”

“Oh, you think he’s just a friend? Oh, cool, I'm in the clear!”

“Is he just a friend? It’s alright, of course, if he isn't.”

“Uhhh… what’s a Zev?”

Vader’s eyes narrowed. ‘What’s a Zev’ indeed.

________

“Luke, no,” Vader chided as Luke tapped yet another button on the shuttle console. The group had just boarded the shuttle, with Vader and Luke in the cockpit and Foggy and the other two stormtroopers from earlier in the back.

Luke pouted, then rebelliously (honestly, what was Vader expecting) pressed the button again.

Vader sighed and flicked a switch, stopping the landing gear from falling mid-flight. Things were silent for a moment before Luke let out a high shriek. “Are you alright?” Vader asked, filing away the fear that gripped his heart to analyze later. Even the thought of Luke hurting made him tense up in fear. 

“I'm bleeding!” he wailed, holding one of his gauze pads out to Vader. The Sith observed the blood and spit soaked cloth with a sad sigh. 

“Yes, young one. You’ve been bleeding for the past hour.”

“ _Hour_?!” Luke keened loudly, holding his hand up to his mouth. He accidentally smeared blood around his lips in the process, whimpering while Vader sighed and replaced Luke’s gauze pads. 

“Yes, Luke, an hour,” he sighed. “Only four more to go.”

_________

Luke slouched, slumping into Vader’s arms once again as the Sith stepped down the boarding ramp. Vader had gotten rid of the giant greeting ceremonies as soon as he stepped onboard the _Executor_. It was a waste of manpower, and honestly, a giant bore. 

That being said, though, as the three stormtroopers piled off the shuttle after the father son duo, they were greeted by the grim face of Maximilian Veers. 

Luke smiled at him, showing off his gauze filled mouth, and Veers grimaced back at the sight of slobber and blood. “Foggy, Tim, Lazarus,” he nodded to the stormtroopers. Foggy and Tim nodded, while the third trooper just stood there looking stunned. “Fill out your reports and meet Candy in the gym for training.”

“Yessir,” Foggy and Tim saluted in unison. The third trooper, though, just stared for a moment, before letting out a stuttered, “Yes,” and hurrying after his comrades. Luke watched him go with a frown, but his attention was quickly pulled away when Veers stepped up to Vader and Luke, hands clasped behind his back. 

“My Lord,” he nodded. “My other Lord.”

Luke glanced around to find who Veers was talking to, but was met with an empty hangar. “Who, me?”

“You _are_ my son, are you not?” Vader replied. “You’ve got a much higher position in the Empire than ‘Commander’.”

“Huh,” Luke wrinkled his nose. “Nepotism, baby!”

Veers raised an eyebrow. He took in the gauze in Luke's mouth and the drugged haze in his eyes, and realized, “Is he…”

“Drugged,” Vader sighed.

“Wisdom Teeth?”

“Yes, in fact. How did you know?”

“My so--” Veers cut himself off, clearing his throat. “My son went through the same.”

“Oh, Zev!” Luke exclaimed. Veers’ eyes snapped to Luke in shock. 

“I… Lord Vader, would you mind if I asked Luke a small, slightly personal question?” Veers said quickly. 

Vader’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “Go on…” 

“You know Zev?” Veers demanded. “Is he alive?”

“Uh. What’s a Zev?”

Veers gaped, thoroughly taken aback by Luke's dismissive. “Wha--”

“Believe me, General I've tried,” Vader said, noting the new development in the back of his mind. ‘Zev’ must be related to the General in some regard. He'd have to ask Piett about the matter later. “You won't get anything out of him.”

“He like, might,” Luke giggled. “I like him.”

“You've just met him.”

“Yeah, but he seems fun!”

Veers frowned. “Fun?”

“Yeah! Like, I'd have a drinking contest with you. And win, probably, but that’s just cause I'm better than you.”

Vader held back a laugh, and said, “Don't be unkind, Luke.”

“Sorry. I'm greater than you.”

“That's not better.”

“I'm better than you?”

“Why don't we quit while we’re ahead?” Veers prompted. “In fact, I'll forget this conversation ever existed, so long as you tell me this; is. Zev. Alive?”

Luke opened his mouth to reply, but winced instead. “Uh… goodnight.”

“What?” Vader mumbled, glancing down to see Luke close his eyes and lean against Vader’s chest. He made loud, fake snoring noises, oblivious to Veers and Vader gazing at him, unimpressed. “Luke,” Vader said, jostling him in his arms. 

Luke frowned, then covered his face with his hands. “You can't see me if I can't see you!”

“That's not how that works,” Veers sighed, giving into the fact that Luke was far too drugged to tell him anything of importance. 

“Shh! I'm invisible.”

“Bu--”

“SHH!” 

“I can still see you, Luke,” Vader said. 

“No, you can't.”

“Yes, I can.”

“No, you can't.”

“Yes, I ca--”

________

Luke sighed, blinking sluggishly as Vader dragged him onto the bridge, leaving Veers to tend to his troops, Zev on his mind. “Why’re we here?” he mumbled. “No one cares about the stupid bridge.”

“That’s inaccurate,” Piett smiled as he walked over to the two. “Lord Vader. It’s good to have you back.”

“ _Really_?!” Luke exclaimed. 

“Did anything of merit happen in my absence?” Vader asked, ignoring Luke’s shocked statement.

“Ah, nothing of merit my lord, but the Empe--”

“I like your hat,” Luke beamed, his eyes shining. 

“Erm. Thank you, my lord. As I was saying, the Emper--”

“Ew!” Luke groaned. “Icky.”

“Icky?”

“Just cause I'm Vader’s child thing doesn't mean I'm a ‘lord’ of anything.”

Piett winced as a hushed silence fell over the bridge. Well. At least now he would be spared from the painful predictions in regards to Vader’s search for the boy. “Technically, my lord--”

“Class is a social construct. Some people are above others cause money, but really, we’re all people! We all love people, e’cept for idiots, and a lot of us are assholes but we should be equal! I'm not better than you cause my father’s the se--sir--second in command of the Whatever-You-Call-It.”

“The Empire,” Piett intervened semi hysterically.

“Yeah, that stupid thing. Besides, social classes are stupid! It’s like deciding who deserves a place in the world based on the kind of hat they wear. I, who am hatless, am at the bottom of the food chain. You, who are hat-ed, are at the top. See? It’s stupid, but now I really want your hat.”

The bridge was silent for a moment after Skywalker’s rant, and finally, Vader said, “Wisdom Teeth.”

Piett winced, rubbing his jaw in sympathy. “Ah.”

“If there’s nothing urgent that needs my attention, Admiral, we’ll be retiring to our chambers.”

“The Emperor has requested an audience,” Piett said, his tone shifting at the mention of Palpatine. Vader’s eyes narrowed. 

“Why was I not told sooner?”

“Hats,” Luke nodded seriously. 

Vader nearly replied, but simply shook his head instead. “Piett, walk with us. I'll get Skywalker settled and send a transmission to the Emperor, while you watch over Skywalker.”

“I don't need a babysitter, you baby!” Luke protested, nearly spitting the gauze out of his mouth. 

“I'm sure you don't,” Vader agreed. “Nonetheless, the Admiral does, doesn't he?”

Pietts eyes widened. “Uh, of course.”

“Wait, so _I'm_ the babysitter? Oh, no, this is too much responsibility, I can't do this!”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I can't!”

“Come now, my Lord--”

“Luke.”

“--it won't be that difficult,” Piett said. 

Luke narrowed his eyes. “Promise?”

“Of course,” Piett nodded. “Captain! Man the bridge.”

 _This is going to be difficult,_ he thought to himself.

________

“Can I see them?” Luke asked Vader as they walked down the hall. He was still being carried by the Sith, as the drugs had only just begun to wear off. 

“See what?” Vader questioned. 

“You know. _Them_.”

“I'm afraid I don't know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, Piett does!”

Vader glanced at the Admiral, but he just shook his head. “I don't believe he does.”

“My,” Luke glanced around the hall, as if he was worried someone might hear them, “Wisdom Teeth.”

“Ah,” Vader sighed. The doctor had given Vader the teeth afterward, which disgusted him to no end, but still, he kept them in his belt compartment for when the drugs wore off and Luke was in his right mind. “And why, precisely, would you like to see them?”

“So I can see if they’re monsters,” Luke whispered secretively.

Piett wheezed out a laugh, covering it quickly as a cough. “Your teeth aren't monsters, Luke.”

“See, you don't know that! Besides, I need their Wisdom.”

“Their wisdom?” Vader asked.

“They took all my Wisdom!” Luke groaned. “I'm Wisdomless! They took it out!”

“They took your Wisdom Teeth out, yes.”

“I'm stupid?” Luke cried.

Piett coughed again, desperate to hide his grin. “No, my Lord, you’re not stupid.”

“They took my wisdom out,” Luke sobbed, dropped his head against Vader’s durasteel shoulder with a loud thunk. “Ow! My head.”

Piett held back another laugh, and if he didn't know better, he'd say Vader was doing the same. “You’ve still got your wisdom, young one,” Vader sighed. “What little you had, at least.”

“Hey! I was a smart bantha burger before they took away my wisdom.”

“A… smart bantha burger?”

“Yes! I took care of myself, fixed engines, nearly died a couple times, escaped--I am a SMART BANTHA BURGER!”

“You were,” Piett nodded, unable to help himself. “Before they took away your wisdom.”

“My **_WISDOM!”_**

________

Fifteen minutes later, Luke was settled on the couch of his living room, laying on his side and gaping at his Wisdom Teeth. He had stolen Piett’s hat a moment earlier, and the too-large cap was hanging haphazardly off his head. Vader had just departed, leaving Piett to stand awkwardly beside Luke. 

The boy sniffled, blood crusting at the corner of his mouth. “Piett?”

“Yes?”

“Where do teeth go when they die?”

Piett covered a laugh with another cough. “I can't say I'm certain.”

Luke frowned. “You cough a lot. Are you diseased?”

“No, I--”

“Keep your die-sease away from my Wisdom Teeth!”

Piett nearly laughed yet again, but nodded and stepped away from Luke. “Do you like your Wisdom Teeth?”

“Yeah,” Luke sniffled again, a single tear dripping down his cheek. 

“What's wrong?” Piett asked. 

Turns out, that was the wrong thing to say. 

Skywalker burst into tears, cradling his teeth close to his chest. “M sorry!” he sobbed.

Piett, of course, tried to comfort him, but when five minutes passed and he realized he was no good with drugged up Jedi, he called Veers frantically. “I think I broke Skywalker,” he snapped, in lieu of a greeting.

“Hello to you, too,” Veers frowned, taking note of the sobs in the background. “Let me guess, you asked him what was wrong.”

“Yes. Why is that a bad thing?”

“Ah, drugged people have a _lot_ of emotions. Don't worry, I'm on my way. You owe me for this, though. I don't necessarily appreciate the fact that I'm bound to take care of the rebel who destroyed the Death Star.”

“Just hurry,” Piett groaned. 

Veers was there in record time. 

“Skywalker,” he greeted as he walked through the door. He took in Piett’s mussed hair and the cap atop Skywalker’s head, letting out a quick snort. “Pushover.”

“Hey!” Piett protested. 

“You can't just do whatever children ask of you, Piett, that spoils them.”

“Please, Skywalker is hardly a child.”

“Of course he is, he’s younger than Ze--” Veers cut himself off and shook his head. “Skywalker?”

Luke sobbed, “What?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Y-y-y-you don't get it!”

“Then make me understand.”

“I'm sorry,” he cried to his Wisdom Teeth. “I loved you, from the very beginning. I would’ve kept you, but they took you out against my will and took my wisdom away--”

“They didn't take your wisdom away, just your Wisdom Teeth,” Veers explained sternly.

“They must be hurting so much!”

“Your teeth are fine. If anything, it’s you who’ll be hurting.”

“Me, hurting? They’re DEAD!” Skywalker sobbed.

Veers laughed at that, letting his head tip back and his cap slide around his head. “They aren't dead, they’re just--”

“Dead!"

Veers snorted, and Piett felt himself dissolve into laughter. “Luke, they're--they're not dead!”

“I. Wanna. SMOOOOTHIIIIEEEEEEE!” Luke cried, bloody gauze dripping onto the couch.

Veers and Piett shared an amused look, though Piett was more hesitant to find mirth in Skywalker’s pain. “Are you sure this is normal?” he asked. 

Veers nodded and waved his concern away. “When Zev got his Wisdom Teeth taken out, he decided that he had the ability to fly and repeatedly tried to jump off the roof. When Ellie got her’s taken out, Zev and I decided to mess with her. Not only was she adamant that she was, in fact, a rapper, we made her believe that her stuffed animals had come alive, and were planning to murder her in her sleep.”

“Gods, Max!” Piett exclaimed with a laugh. “And that didn't scar the poor girl?”

“Ellie’s strong. Stronger than the both of us. Besides, she loves it. She always has a story to tell.”

“I'm glad she's able to look on the bright side.”

“Zev never could.”

Piett was silent for a bit, the only sound in the room being Luke’s mournful sniffles. “Erm, Luke,” Piett finally said, “what kind of smoothie would you like?”

“Bananananananananana,” Luke nodded. 

“B-banana?”

“No! Bananananananananana.”

“Of course,” Veers said with a laugh. “A bananananananananana smoothie.”

“With peanut butter.”

“Oh, how could we forget the peanut butter.”

“Because you're FOOLS!” Skywalker groaned as he angrily tossed a pillow at Veers. Both officers laughed at that, and Veers stood up with a grunt. 

“You’ll be fine here for a moment?” he asked Piett. 

The Admiral glanced cautiously at Luke, but nodded. “For a moment.”

“You really are clueless with children, aren't you?”

“I wouldn't say I'm clueless. Besides, Skywalker isn't a child.”

“When he’s drugged, he is,” Veers sighed as he marched towards the door. “I'll see you in a moment, Firmus. I'm off to get a bananananananananana smoothie with peanut butter.”

“Good luck with that, Max,” Piett sighed. 

Veers smirked and punched a key on the door panel, watching it slide open. He stepped out into what he assumed would be an empty corridor, only to be met with the sight of a tense stormtrooper staring back at him. 

Veers narrowed his eyes at the man. “Who are you? What’s your call signal?”

“Erm, ZV-2006, sir,” he said, snapping to attention.

“Don't you have places to be?”

“I was just--”

“Nevermind,” Veers sighed, rubbing his eyelids. “I've had a taxing day full of reminders of a past best left forgotten, and I really don't have the patience for this. Go to the nearest Officer’s Lounge and order a banana peanut butter smoothie, and please, make it quick.”

“Uh, yes, sir,” the trooper saluted, hurrying away from Veers at the first chance he got. 

Veers scoffed and turned away. He burst back into Luke’s quarters, a frown on his face. “I just ran into the oddest stormtrooper,” he told Piett. 

“Where's my smoothie?” cried Luke. 

“Hush, Baby Jedi. Have you ever heard of ZV-2006?”

“No,” Piett said with a frown. “The odd thing here is that you clearly haven’t.”

“I command over two thousand troops, Firmus, it would be impossible for me to memorize their call signs.”

“But still, if this one was so memorable, shouldn't you know it?”

“He wasn't trained very well, that’s for certain.”

“Piett?” Luke asked sadly. 

The Admiral held up a hand to Veers and turned to Luke. “Yes?”

Luke grinned. “Always remember that your opinions are valid, and you are valid. Never let anyone put you down!”

“Thank you, Luke.”

“I love you,” the boy said, tears misting up his eyes.

“I know, Luke. You were saying, Max?”

“If anything, he’s new here, but I approve all transfers, so I don't understand how this one could've slipped past me.”

“Veers?” Luke called quietly. 

“Yes, Baby Jedi?” Veers sighed. 

“I just thought you should know, Zev is actually a really good soldier. I know you think he wasn't trained well, and doesn't have good values, but he's a good soldier, and a good Colonel. He never leaves his troops behind, and I know you and he left off on a sour note, but he _does_ care about you and his sister. Don't forget that, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat with a nod. “Okay. Thank you, Luke.”

Luke beamed back at him. “You're welcome!”

Piett frowned, glancing between the two. “Are you--”

“It's the anesthetic,” Veers dismissed. “Chances are he doesn't mean a thing he says. It's best if I don't read too much into it.”

“But, Max--”

“I can't read too much into it. Zev was the same way, when he was under anesthesia; first, they’ll think everything’s funny, then they cry a lot, and then, they try to make other people happy. It's nothing, Firmus. Nothing.”

Piett disagreed, but left Veers to his misery. Some things are better left alone.

________

About five minutes later, the stormtrooper arrived with a smoothie in hand. “Banana peanut butter, right?”

“Obviously,” Veers sighed, ready to ask about the trooper’s training, when Luke shouted in joy. 

“Zev!” he exclaimed. “Hi!” 

The trooper shook his head quickly, hoping Veers would miss it. Of course, though, he didn't. “Zev?”

“Erm… no?”

Piett looked from Luke’s joyful face, to Veers’ worried expression, to the blank mask of the stormtrooper. “Take it off,” he said. “The mask, take it off.”

“All due respect, sir, the navy has no control over anyone in the army,” the trooper shot back quickly. 

“We should, though,” Luke sighed from his place on the couch. Piett blinked. He'd forgotten that Luke was technically a part of the Rebellion’s navy. “I mean, Pete—“

“Piett,” the Admiral corrected automatically. 

“—and I are superior beings, cause we’re from the Outer Rim, and you two are Core Slime, so we’re awesomer, and better, and—”

The stormtrooper sighed, glancing at Veers. Once he was certain his facade was up, he said, “We get it, Luke.”

“Good! Now, giive me my smoothie you insignificant mortal!”

“Of course,” Zev sighed, still not taking off the helmet. He walked towards Luke with the smoothie, Veers watching him with his mouth agape. “Are you not mortal?”

“No, I’m a Jedi.”

Once Zev reached Luke, he slid the mask off, offering Luke the smoothie. “And thus all-knowing. Drink up. You'll need the energy if we’re going to escape this hellhole.”

“Escape? I'm having a great time! You’re seeing your dad for the first time in ages, Piett’s suffering in the corner, and I've got a smoothie! This is amazing and we should be thankful.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I have a lot of emotions! And I enjoy being validated.”

“Zev?” Veers asked again.

The boy winced, slowly turning to his father. “In my defense, I totally didn't think you’d be here.”

“Oh, and _that’s_ supposed to make me feel better? You defected to the Rebellion without a single modicum of thought given to how that would affect me and your sister, you made thousands of questionable decisions, you let me think you could be _dead_ \--”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Zev stood up defensively, shielding Luke from Veers on instinct. “You don't get to make _me_ the bad guy here when you're the one who nearly killed me on Hoth.”

“I'm not the terrorist here, Zev!”

“I'm fighting for what I believe in! Why can't you support that?”

“Because you believe in _terrorism_!”

“That’s not what we are, we aren't terrorists, I'm not a terrorist!”

“You had a duty to the Empire--”

“I won't fulfill a duty to a cause I don't believe in.”

“We are trying to bring peace to the galaxy!”

“How? By making things like the Death Star? By murdering innocents and controlling planets?”

“We wouldn't have to if it wasn't for your little Alliance!”

“Little Alliance? Dad, we are a lot of things, but we are _not_ little!”

“You can say that again!” Luke cheered. “You’re not little at all, Zev.”

“Clearly, if I was you wouldn't be with me, now would you?” he smirked, turning back to Luke. 

“Oh gods,” Piett groaned, rubbing his eyelids until little black spots appeared in his vision. 

“Wait a minute,” Veers said, holding up both his hands in a ‘Please-Stop-Before-My-Brain-Explodes-I’ve-Already-Lost-Enough-Brain-Cells-Keeping-Up-With-You-I-Can’t-Spare-Any-More’ motion.

“Yep,” Luke grinned. 

“You two are together?”

“No, we’ve never met before now,” Zev deadpanned. Luke frowned, looking up at him in dismay. 

“We haven't?”

“Wait, Luke, I--”

“But I love you!” Luke wailed, letting Zev hug him tightly. 

“I was being sarcastic, I was just playing. It’s fine, Luke, it’s okay.”

“We aren't together!”

“We are, I was just--”

“What if you're DEAD, just like my wisdom?”

“Y-your wisdom?”

“He thinks his Wisdom Teeth took away his wisdom,” Piett explained with a tired sigh. 

“I-I-I wanna overthrow the Empire,” Luke sobbed, “but they took away my wisdom, ‘n I can't do anything if I'm not wise!”

“Luke!” Zev laughed. “You’re being ridiculous. You’re still as wise as you ever were.”

“Bu-bu-but I--”

“Do forgive your lover, Zev, his incredibly high and most likely won't remember a thing which is why I'll say this in front of him; what the hell are you thinking?!?!” Veers demanded. 

“What, is me dating a man that hard to handle?”

“I don't give a damn about that, I give a damn about the fact that you’re dating a mass murderer!” 

“I'm mourning them, too!” Luke groaned, looking at his Wisdom Teeth. “You will not be forgotten.”

“Not what they’re talking about,” Piett sighed again. 

“No?”

“No. Death Star.”

“Oh. That space ball...”

“Yes, Luke, that space ball.”

Luke pouted, studying his hands. “Piett?”

“Yes?”

“Roses are red, violets are blue, I have no teeth, how the heck are you?”

Piett snorted at the sad, slightly dumbfounded expression on Luke's face. “Well,” he said, “I'm tired, exasperated, annoyed, yearning to get back to work, and wishing I was anywhere but here.”

“Oh,” Luke said, oblivious to Zev and Veers’ ongoing argument. “Well, I'm happy you're here!”

“Thank you, Luke. At least that makes one of us.”

________

“Hello,” Luke smiled to Vader, who made his way over to Luke’s couch. Zev and Veers had left to continue their argument, and once Vader arrived, Piett was dismissed. 

“Hello,” Vader replied. 

“What did Palpie Pie’s Panties want?”

“Information, mostly. In regards to you, your imminent turn to the dark side, etc.”

Luke nodded, glancing at his hands. The anesthesia had finally begun to wear off, but not enough for Luke to understand the consequences of his actions. “I don't wanna turn.”

“It is your destiny.”

“Destiny schmestiny. I'll make my own path. Always in motion, the future is.”

“I see Yoda’s influenced you more than I had thought.”

Luke made a short, agreeable noise, slurping up the last of his smoothie. “You have too, though.”

Vader smiled beneath his mask, a warm feeling flooding his heart. “Good.” 

“I love you, y’know,” Luke sighed. “And it kinda sucks, cause I should really hate you.”

“You should,” Vader agreed sadly. “I would, if I were you.”

“You’re not,” Luke shrugged. “Besides, I'd rather love you and hate it than hate you and hate it.”

“You don't seem to hate anyone, Luke.”

“I hate Jabba the Hutt. Yoda says Jedi don't hate, but in this case, it’s warranted. He’s a dirty rotten saver--no, slacker… what’s the word?”

“You should rest, young one,” deflected Vader, frightened off the subject of love and hate. “We may speak of this tomorrow morning.”

“I guess,” Luke yawned. “Don't let Zev get hurt, alright?”

“Of course, Luke.” _Anything for you_.

__ONE__HOUR__LATER__

“SLAVER!” Luke screeched in Vader’s ear. The Sith winced. 

“Ah,” he said, holding back a groan. “You recalled the word.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked ittttttt!! it started out kinda cracky, but I couldn't resist a little Veers family drama. I'm thinking of writing a separate thing involving Veers and Zev, cause their dynamic is similar to Luke and Vader's but also really different. Veers is married to the Empire and to his duty, and Zev's involvement in the Rebellion wasn't as easily forgivable to Veers as Luke's was to Vader. Zev finds it a lot harder not to resent his father. Luke forgave Vader super quickly after the hand chop, but Zev may never forgive his father for the fights they definitely got into. I also think he slightly blames Veers for the death of his mother, because he was on duty while she was dying. Also, while Ellie Veers isn't canon, she is in my heart, and I think somewhere in the galaxy she's doing something, whether that's helping the Empire or the Rebellion.
> 
> Also, I need help choosing which to do next: Blue or Red. (Blue is a three parter in which Luke and the gang time travel to three different eras: the beginning of ANH, the end of the clone wars, and something undecided! Red is the one where Luke, Piett, and Vader all get into a shuttle crash!)  
> Pretty please vote!! I love hearing from you all! Come cry with me on Tumblr over Star Wars @togandtoyler  
> Love y’all! Stay safe and sweet! 
> 
> (p.s.: be happy!)
> 
> (p.p.s.: vote for red or blue, or orange, yellow, green, or indigo, if you want! requests are, as always, open!! blue and red tied on the last chapter, which is why we're doing this whole shoopla again. Love you all! bye)
> 
> (p.p.p.s: when I was writing this, i realized i'd never actually had a peanut butter banananananana smoothie, so I made one. it's my own recipe cause I Don't Follow Rules. Here is is if you wanna it! I liked it, and the two year old that accosted me earlier was overjoyed. 
> 
> 3 bananas  
> 2 big ass spoonfuls of peanut butter  
> 2 heaping spoonfuls (smaller than the spoons of peanut butter) of Greek yogurt  
> 1 1/2 cups of almond milk  
> 3 handfuls of ice to keep things cool
> 
> enjoy, my lovlies)


	15. The Crashed Shuttle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Firmus Piett arrives on the second Death Star to check on everyone's favorite Sith Lord, he comes across Luke Skywalker, a near-dead Lord Vader, and, of course, treason. Of course, he takes Skywalker, Vader, and treason on a shuttle that (what were you expecting) crashed on the moon of Endor. It's been a long day, and honestly, Piett just want's to get back to the Executor. But, of course, fate has other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ME, WRITING THIS: i hate it. the words aren't flowing, the characterization feels off, there isn't a real plot, there's nothing shocking or plot twisty. i've lost all hope. maybe i should leave it in my docs, unseen. when inspiration strikes, perhaps i shall pick up the pen, yet again. though for now, until destiny passes this oneshot by, it shall forever remain unseen, unread, and unwritten.
> 
> MY BETA: you could just explain that to your readers, they'd understand. if it isn't working--
> 
> ME: fuck that! i have a goddamn personal vendetta, now, and i will slay this fic if it kills me
> 
> MY BETA: in that case... LeTs GeT tHiS bReAd!  
> ...
> 
> Hello, my lovlies! This is short and semi-sweet, but it's here! I was having some trouble with writers block, and also some personal stuff, but it's here! So, this is RED, aka, the one where Piett, Luke, and Vader all get into a shuttle crash. Enjoy, my darlings!

“Has there been any contact from Lord Vader?” Piett asked. He glanced out the viewport in worry, taking a brief pause from spitting out battle instructions in order to study the second Death Star. Really, was it worth protecting?

“Nothing, sir,” replied the worried captain. “He was supposed to make contact hours ago.”

Piett frowned, still studying the half-completed battestation. He turned towards the fight flurrying around them, and finally snapped to the captain, “Take charge of the bridge.”

“But sir, I-”

“You _are_ a capable officer, are you not? We’ve been through thousands of battles before, and this one isn't any different.” That was a lie. “I have full belief in your abilities, Captain,” also a lie, “but if Lord Vader hasn't yet made contact, something’s gone wrong. It is my duty to ensure that his plans are going smoothly. If you believe I shouldn't leave, Captain, I'm afraid you'll have to take it up with Lord Vader.”

Before the captain could stutter out a response, Piett was rushing off the bridge, towards the ship’s hangar. In less than a minute, he hijacked a Lambda-class shuttle and made his way towards the second Death Star, barely managing to outmaneuver rebel fighters along the way. He may spend most of his time on the bridge of a Star Destroyer, but he WAS a navy soldier. He knew how to handle an aircraft.

When he arrived, he was met with the sight of nearly twenty Imperials fleeing the battlestation, running towards any shuttle they could find. Alarms were blaring as Piett pushed his way through the slew of Imperial’s, stopping in his tracks when he was met with the sight of a desperate Luke Skywalker heaving Lord Vader towards the ramp of a shuttle. He gaped for a moment, pulled from his stupor when Luke lost his balance and the Sith dropped to the floor. He rushed forward as the Jedi dragged Lord Vader onto the platform. 

“Stand back,” he snapped, whipping out a blaster and pointing it at Luke. 

The Jedi glanced down to this Sith and backed away, clearly distraught. “Please, he’s going to die!”

Piett kneeled beside Vader. “My Lord,” he said, blaster still trained on Luke, “how may I assist you? 

“Admiral,” the Sith said slowly, “let me… see him…” 

Hesitantly, Piett waved his blaster at Luke, who crouched down beside Vader and laid a hand on the Sith’s shoulder. “Father,” he choked out, his throat muddling the noise. If Piett didn't know better, he'd say Luke was holding back tears. 

But then, he apparently didn't know better. After all… “Father?” Piett asked, glancing down at Vader for confirmation. The Sith didn't answer, his mask still turned towards his son. Piett still kept his blaster pointed at Luke, but he clicked the setting down to stun. Skywalker was Vader’s son. Skywalker was Vader’s son, and there were about twenty psychological issues that Piett was dealing with, now, but this was NOT the time to ponder his Lord’s motivations.

“Luke,” he said, “help me take… this mask off.”

Luke frowned. “But you’ll die!”

“Nothing… can stop that, now. Just for once, let me… look on you with my own eyes.”

After a moment of hesitation, Luke made to reach for the mask. Piett gaped and smacked his hands away. “Ow!” Luke exclaimed. 

“Don't be ridiculous,” Piett snapped. “There’s no need for either of you to be dramatic. There are proper medical bays equipped to assist Lord Vader on the _Executor_.”

“Ah, yes,” Luke said sarcastically, wringing his hands in worry, “the _Executor_. A ship currently being fired on, and bound to be destroyed.”

Piett narrowed his eyes at the Jedi. “If you had Lord Vader’s best interests at heart, you would surely see that there’s more to do than taking off his mask, an act that will surely kill him.” _Don’t insult the Lady_ , he held back the urge to shout. 

Luke winced. “I _do_ have his best interests at heart. I just-”

Piett took in the situation and quickly made a hopefully not-bad choice. “Well then, come on,” he stood, clipping his blaster to his belt. “We don't have much time, if his current state is anything to go by.”

He grabbed Vader’s left arm,and motioned for Luke to take hold of the right. Together, the two dragged Vader over to Piett’s shuttle, ignoring the Sith’s protests. Well, that is to say, _Piett_ ignored the Sith’s protests. Skywalker, on the other hand… 

“Of _course_ there’s time left for you, Father… No, don't say that! … Leia will forgive you.”

The last comment gained him a raised brow from Piett, but Luke studiously ignored the Admiral. _Family drama, then,_ Piett thought. He had more important things to worry about.

Once Vader was securely strapped into the shuttle, Piett and Luke both made for the pilots seat. Luke narrowed his eyes at the Admiral, who simply puffed up his chest and said, “I'm piloting.”

“No,” Luke snapped, “I am.”

“You have no experience in flying Lambda-class shuttles, do you?”

“I'm sure I'll do just fine regardless.”

“You may be Lord Vader’s son, Skywalker, and while that does, unfortunately, give you my loyalty, it does not for one second make me trust you.”

“I'm not going to pull anything shifty. Not when it’s my father’s life at stake.”

Piett couldn't argue with that, but still felt opposed to the idea of Luke Skywalker, of all people, piloting an Imperial ship. Unfortunately, though, the man’s stubbornness knew no bounds, and while Piett was more than ready to stand up to the rebel Jedi, the sooner they got off the Death Star, the better. 

“Fine,” he eventually snapped.

He sat behind the pilot’s seat, more than prepared to point out every flaw of Luke’s flying. 

Which, of course, he did. 

“Lift the landing gear, Skywalker, we can't go galavanting through space with it down.” “Are you TRYING to get us killed?” “Watch out for that fighter, Skywalker, it’s just behind us.” “To the LEFT, Skywalker, my crew will be less than pleased if you kill off the Fleet Admiral and the Commander of the Navy in one fell swoop.” “The _fighter_ , Skywalker!”

This last statement was the final comment he could get out before a rebel fighter mistook them for Imperials, and shot their ship to the ground.

________

“I told you, I should have piloted,” Piett snapped as he stretched out his stiff limbs. 

He and Luke were standing beside the smoldering remains of the crashed shuttle. Lord Vader was propped against the shuttle wall, most likely unconscious. He was unresponsive, at least, but for all Piett knew, the vocoder could be malfunctioning. 

“Shut it,” Luke glared at him, his nose wrinkling a touch. “I'd like to see you do better.”

“I'm sure I could do better than _this_ ,” Piett gestured to the crashed shuttle. Luke sighed, and rubbed his forehead. 

“Yeah? How many Death Stars have you destroyed?”

“None. Apparently, your friends can't say the same,” Piett nodded up to the blue sky, gazing at the long-since destroyed figure of the Death Star. Luke couldn't hold back a smile. “Glad to know you’re enjoying the murderfest, Skywalker.”

Luke flinched again, and turned away from him, looking to the Sith Lord instead. “How is he?”

“Shouldn't you know?”

“How should I know?”

“You’re his son, aren't you?”

“Yeah,” Luke snorted, “we’ve talked a grand total of three times, two of which while we were dueling. The third time we talked, we decided to kill the Emperor, who had been torturing and manipulating him since before I was born. Believe me, Admiral, you’re closer to him than I ever will be.”

Piett couldn't help but doubt that. “And still, you saved him,” Piett hummed, pushing his doubts aside. Luke frowned. 

“Why are you saying it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you doubt it.”

Piett stared at Luke for a moment and sighed. “Forgive me, Skywalker,” he snapped, “but as you’ve been known to repeatedly demolish Imperial property, kill good officers and troops, and commit acts of _terrorism_ , I don't quite believe you have my lord’s best interests at heart.”

“I'm his _son_!”

“Who he’s spent years chasing, and for the most part, has wanted nothing to do with him. You and your rebel friends have made it awfully clear that you don't think very highly of Lord Vader, Skywalker, don't think that I've forgotten that.”

“He’s my father. We disagree on a lot, of course, and we’ve never managed to have a five minute long conversation that didn't end in dismemberment, but he’s my father. And above all, I lo-” Luke cut himself off with a wince. “There's no reason for you to be hostile, Piett. I don't know what the future holds, but right now, my biggest concern is his safety. What’s yours?”

 _My biggest concern is that_ your _biggest concern_ isn’t _his safety,_ Piett thought for a moment. “His safety,” he told Luke instead. The Jedi scrunched up his nose, like he didn't quite believe him, but Piett just sighed and turned away from him. “The lights on his suit are still on. He’s alive, at least, but I've no clue as to how long he'll stay that way.”

Luke nodded and bit his lip. He opened his mouth to say something, but cut himself off with a shake of his head. 

“What?” Piett asked. 

“I… I could try to use the Force?” Luke said. 

“I wish you'd have a touch more confidence, Skywalker, this is the soon-to-be Emperor’s life we’re talking about.”

Luke balked at that, but shook his head. “I could try to locate the problem with the Force. I'd do it all the time on the moisture ‘vaporators back on Tatooine, but that was all subconscious.”

Piett glanced down at the Sith, then back up at the smoldering wreckage. “Try,” he ordered, and marched back towards the remains. 

“Where are you going?”

“There should be a toolkit in here, somewhere,” Piett called back. He’d had them commissioned onto every Lambda-class shuttle on the _Executor_ , not to mention he’d snuck one into Vader’s personal TIE fighter. 

There were med kits, after all. Why should the Commander of the Force-forsaken Navy go without the proper tools to save himself in an emergency, when others who weren't disadvantaged could easily survive? 

Luke frowned. “Are you sure? I don't remember that being an Imperial standard…”

“And what would you know about Imperial standards?”

“Well, that I won't live up to them, for one.”

Piett couldn't help but snort out a laugh at Luke’s self-deprecating comment. “That you most definitely won't.”

________

Sure enough, he found the toolkit in the far corner of the shuttle. The top was dented, and the bottom corner was busted, but other than that, it seemed perfectly alright. He delivered the box to Luke right away, and the Jedi took it with a frown. 

“This definitely isn't normal,” he said. “Is it just for him?”

Piett was silent for a few minutes, and Luke set himself to work with a sigh. He fiddles with the control panel of the suit, popping it open after a few moments to fiddle with the wires on the inside. A short burst of smoke escaped from the panel, resulting in a cough from Luke. Piett frowned at the exposed wires. “What in the galaxy happened to the two of you?”

Luke snorted. “Palpatine stuck his fingers in too many electrical sockets as a child.”

Piett’s frown deepened, but Skywalker stuck out the tip of his tongue and fiddled with the control box again. After a few more minutes, Piett finally said, “Yes.”

Luke tilted his head. “Yes?”

“Yes. The toolkits were commissioned for him.”

“But not by him.”

“No.”

“By you?” Piett was silent, and Luke relaxed a touch with a sigh. “I still don't trust you. But thank you.”

Piett was shocked by the rebel’s statement, but he refused to let it show. “You're welcome,” he said stiffly instead.

Luke laughed a little, and held out a hand. “Could you pass me those tiny clipper things?” 

And that’s how Admiral Firmus Piett became the official Tool Passer of the Rebel Alliance. 

________

“Leia and Han should be about thirty four miles east,” Luke motioned to a map he had drawn up from his wrist holo. “My comm is out, so I don't know for certain, but they most likely won't be leaving until tomorrow, or maybe even the day after that.”

“Very well, then,” Piett nodded. “Surely, you should be the one to contact them, once we get a chance.”

“Right, but I don't want to leave you alone.”

“Alone? Please. I'm very able to fend for myself against a bunch of living teddy bears, Luke.”

“Really?” he exclaimed. “I doubt it.”

“It’s not all that difficult. They’re, what, three feet tall?”

“They can be viscous. And you can't hurt them back.”

“They’re indestructible?” Piett didn't know much about the fauna of Endor’s moons, but he would surely recall indestructible teddy bears.

“No, you just… can't hurt them.”

“Well, if it’s self defense--”

“You… don't understand. You. Can't. Hurt. Them,” Skywalker said slowly, as if speaking to a child. 

“I'm not quite certain what you're talking about.”

Luke sighed. “You’ll see. I'll try to fix my comm and make this easier on all of us, but I'm pretty sure it’s dead.”

“Try mine, too,” Piett demanded. 

“Bossy,” Skywalker sighed. 

In the corner of his eye, Piett swore he saw Vader move his hand a little, but Piett blinked and the Sith was still as a statue. Huh. His eyes must've been pulling tricks on him.

“Look,” Luke sighed, “if we do go to the rebels, I don't know if they’ll help us. Even if they do, it’s a half day hike through the forest to get there, and another half-day to get back. Is this really our best bet?”

“You know my thoughts on this,” Piett replied coldly. Luke winced. He definitely did. 

Piett had vehemently disagreed with Luke’s rebel-centric plan. ‘ _They’ll have us killed_ ,’ he has snapped to Luke. The Jedi sighed. 

“I guess it’s not the greatest idea…” 

“Took you long enough to grasp that, didn't it?”

Luke glared at him. “Whatever. I'm hungry.”

“You're a teenager, you’re always hungry.”

“I'm not a tee--”

“You, Luke Skywalker, are an angry teen who’s rebelling against the Empire because ‘ _Dad just doesn't understand me_.’”

“When you say it like that…”

________

“Can we move him?” Luke asked ten minutes later. 

“Move him thirty four miles, to your Rebels? Doubtful,” Piett sighed. “He's twice your size.”

“He’s also twice your size, Admiral.”

“Yes, but you wouldn't know it.”

“Just because you can command a room and make yourself seem bigger than you are--”

“Which you should learn to do as well.”

“--doesn't change the fact that we all know you're compensating for something.”

Piett's jaw dropped. The _audacity_. “I'll have you kn--no. No. I don't believe that little comment deserves a response.”

“Ah, _little_ , kind of like your d--”

“--decision to join the Navy and serve our good and righteous Empire, and bring a new, refined order to the galaxy,” Piett cut him off. “It’s like you’re _trying_ to antagonize me.”

Luke raised an eyebrow and Piett realized that was _exactly_ what he was doing.

________

“I'm worried.”

“I know, Skywalker.”

“He's still unconscious!”

“I know, Skywalker.”

“He could die!”

Piett was silent for a moment, genuine dread washing over him. It had nearly been a day, and he and Skywalker couldn't yet decide where to take the Sith. Vader was still unconscious, and his Force presence had, according to Skywalker, gradually dimmed as the day went on. Piett hadn't been able to contact the _Executor_ , and Skywalker was entirely unsure of what the rebels would do to them. They would wish for Piett and Vader to be executed for war crimes, most likely, and Skywalker would surely get the boot for bothering to associate with them. 

That being said, Vader was, currently, the ruler of the galaxy. All he had to do was claim the throne, and it would be his. Unfortunately, though, it was incredibly difficult to do much of anything when you’re lying unconscious on the forest floor. 

After thirty seconds passed, Piett replied, slower than normal, “I know, Skywalker.” 

________

“What’s he like?” Luke asked Piett. “My father.”

The Admiral sighed. “Would he want me to tell you?”

“You'd know better than I would.” Skywalker’s tone was sadly longing. Piett tried to ignore the desperation, but sighed again. 

“He's strict. Not at all lenient, and while he expects nothing but the best and will punish those who don't give it to him, his methods have led me to succeed numerous times when I may have otherwise failed. The officers loathe him, because he makes them work, a subject which, otherwise, is foreign to them. The troops love him, though, because he never hesitates to go into battle at their sides. He does not discriminate between Core-worlders and those of us from the Outer Rim, which I believe is more than our old Emperor could say.”

Luke was silent for a moment, until he said, “I just don't know where you stand, Admiral. Am I sitting next to a man who would risk his life for my father, or a man who would shoot me if I took one wrong step?”

“Both,” the Admiral replied. “If your father was here to vouch for you, perhaps things would be different. Maybe we'd even get along.”

“Lord Vader, the peacemaker,” Luke laughed. “Force. _Lord_ Vader. Of all the crazy titles…”

Piett sighed and turned his head to look at Luke. They were both sitting with their backs to the wall of the crashed shuttle, sipping water rations that Piett had found beside the toolkit. “May I ask _you _a question, since I've already answered yours?”__

__“Shoot,” Luke shrugged. “Most Imperials don't hit their targets, though, so don't be too disappointed if you don't score.”_ _

__Piett ignored the jab, and asked, “Why are you with the rebels? If you’re truly loyal to your father, how can you betray him as such?”_ _

__“Well, first of all,” he sighed, “I didn't know he was my father until Bespin.”_ _

__Piett winced. Oh, he remembered Bespin. The way the floor dropped out from under him after the Millenium Falcon disappeared, how he watched Lord Vader walk away, shocked when no invisible pressure snapped his throat._ _

__“And by then, I was very passionate about the Rebellion. To be truthful, though, joining the Rebellion wasn't really about the cause. I just wanted to see the stars.”_ _

__Piett frowned. There were about a million things wrong with that statement, but he and Luke had reached an accord, of sorts, and the fact that they managed to go this long without arguing was shocking. The Admiral wasn't willing to stir the waters._ _

__Luke, on the other hand… “So, why did you join the Empire?”_ _

__“I graduated from the Naval Academy just as the Clone War ended. I wanted to help the galaxy, so I joined.”_ _

__“Huh. Were you ever on the Death Star?”_ _

__“I just was. You were there, Skywalker, surely you remember?”_ _

__“Not what I meant, and you know it.”_ _

__“I served under Tarkin for a month, when that wretched machine was being built. Veers served longer.”_ _

__“You know him? Maximilian Veers?”_ _

__“Of course. Do you know his son?”_ _

__“Ah. So, you found out about Zev.”_ _

__“Veers told me. He doesn't talk about him much.”_ _

__“Yes, well, my father doesn't talk about me much, either, so--”_ _

__“Please, Skywalker, we all know otherwise.”_ _

__Luke frowned. “What?”_ _

__Which, of course, led to Piett recounting every single time Vader had mentioned Skywalker, on the bridge or in private._ _

__There was, of course, every time the hunt for Skywalker got a little too intense, and the boy was the only thing on Vader’s mind. Then there were the times when Vader would randomly mention the Jedi, confusing just about everyone on board. Cryptic comments about random rebels they came across (“ _He knows Skywalker.” “She has seen him._ ”) and odd insights in regards to said Jedi’s daily life. _ _

__Needless to say, every normal officer on the bridge was sick and tired of hearing about Luke, aka the Skywalker Spectacle._ _

__This was news to the Jedi._ _

___________ _

__

__“Stay back!” Luke demanded from his place high up in a tree. He nudged an angry Ewok away with the toe of his boot._ _

__“You were right. We can't hurt them,” Piett called down to Luke from even higher up in the tree._ _

__“They’re too cute!” Luke wailed. He pushed a spear-bearing Ewok away from him, using the Force to cushion the teddy bear’s fall._ _

__Little did he know, the Ewok’s broken spear just happened to bump into a rock on the way to the ground, which just so happened to spin away from the tree and fall towards the soil, which just so happened to be occupying a very grumpy Sith Lord. The rock fell onto the control panel of his suit, bumping a small red button in the corner. Finally, the Sith let out a groan. At last, he could talk again._ _

___________ _

__

__“‘ _Dad just doesn't understand me_ ’, I believe, were your exact words, Admiral.”_ _

__Piett nervously cleared his throat with a nod. “Yes, sir. I'm sorry, my lord.”_ _

__“Don't let it happen again, or I may not be so lenient.”_ _

__Luke held back a laugh as Vader chastised the Admiral. “You'd think he's your son here, not me.”_ _

__This, of course, prompted Vader to look back at Luke. “And you! What were you thinking, throwing your lightsaber? Have you any idea how reckless that was, young one? You could've died!”_ _

__“But I didn't!” Luke exclaimed. “Besides, that was ages ago.”_ _

__“I'm aware, young one. _I was awake_.”_ _

__Luke winced. Yep. The Sith hadn't been unconscious at all. During the crash, he was jostled out of his seat, turning off the vocoder. Every single petty, obscure conversation between Piett and Luke had been heard by the Sith._ _

__Because privacy just doesn't exist anymore._ _

__“Well,” Piett cut in, “what are your orders? Should we return to the fleet?”_ _

__“Of course, Admiral. Any other choice would be woefully irresponsible,” Vader sent Luke a Look™._ _

__“That would be scarier if you weren't still on the ground,” Luke observed. Vader glared at him again. It was true. Vader had lost all use of his prosthetics, and had yet to stand up. To Luke, this was hilarious. To Piett, Siths are no less Scary™ when they’re sitting on the ground covered in dirt and a little bit of moss from the Ewok Episode._ _

__“How will we get back?” Piett asked. “We don't have a comm.”_ _

__“If anyone had bothered to check _my_ wristband, you would all know that we do, in fact, have a comm.”_ _

__“Ah.”_ _

__“Whoops.”_ _

__“‘Whoops’ indeed. Now, if you could simply help me up, I'll allow you to use my wristband.”_ _

__Luke grinned and heaved his father up to his feet. Piett simply frowned. “Are you quite certain that the Lady is still operational?”_ _

__“Yes, Admiral. The _Executor_ is functioning just as well as ever. Captain Dam`e made sure of it. We will, of course, be having a conversation on your abrupt abandonment of the fleet.”_ _

__Piett grew worried again, but simply nodded. “Yes, milord.”_ _

__Luke sighed. “Let’s get going, then.”_ _

__“Let's get going,” Piett repeated._ _

___________ _

__

__BREAKING NEWS:_ _

__Just yesterday, peace has shockingly overtaken the galaxy! There’s been a temporary cease-fire as the Alliance’s High Command and the Empire’s most prestigious officers and socialites duke it out in a governmental free for all._ _

__That’s right! Due to the recent death of Emperor Palpatine, our new Empress, Leia Organa, took her place on the throne due to the fact that she’s Darth Vader’s own daughter! Now, I know what you’re all thinking: a rebel? In charge of the Empire? How in the galaxy could that work out?_ _

__Don't worry, folks, we’ve been thinking the exact same thing. Luckily for us, the Empress and her right hand man, Luke Skywalker, will be holding a press conference tomorrow to release all the hot details! Tune in tomorrow to find out more!_ _

__________ _

__

__“Piett,” Veers glared at the man from across the room. Piett winced. Veers only used his last name when he was really, really angry._ _

__“Max,” Piett nodded back. They were standing in the middle of the large conference room that would soon house both Rebel High Command and a shipload of Imperial dignitaries._ _

__“You committed treason...”_ _

__He had, technically, associated with rebels, so Piett supposed that was true, though he wouldn't necessarily call it TREASON._ _

__“... staged a coup…”_ _

__Placing Leia on the throne wasn't really a coup. Merely a… slightly unethical plan._ _

__“... organized a peace conference…”_ _

__That, Piett couldn't deny._ _

__“... climbed a tree with a Jedi…”_ _

__That wasn't his choice, it was a necessary precaution in order to survive being mauled to death by chubby teddy bears._ _

__“... practically kidnapped Lord Vader…”_ _

__At first, it had seemed like Veers was going in chronological order. Clearly, Piett was wrong._ _

__“... and found my son…”_ _

__Zev really _was_ a pleasant man. _ _

__“... and my son’s fiancee…”_ _

__Luke was alright._ _

__“... without telling me. What the hells were you thinking?”_ _

__Piett winced. There it was._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you are! I hope you liked it. If you were wondering, Piett and Luke don't trust each other at all here because Vader isn't there to say 'this person is a good person'/. Granted, this isn't always needed (in my mind) for Piett and Luke to get along, but under the circumstances, with Vader possibly dying and a huge battle going on, the adrenaline and general distrust of the other side made it nearly impossible for them to work together, at first. Also, I really like the idea of Piett and Luke just chilling in a tree while angry teddy bears throw spears at them.  
> t's much shorter than most of the things I write, but, another reason I was having some trouble was because I was working on two storylines at once. Why is this, you may wonder? Well, drumroll please... I've been working on the FBI idea! Remember how I made the terrible decision to start an FBI au and promptly forget about it? I have a full outline, and most of the first half written. A hint to the plot; Luke isn't the goody-two-shoes we'd all expect him to be, but don't worry, he's still sweet and impossible to not be friends with, which undercover agent Firmus Piett learned very quickly.  
> Anyways, if I can stick to my responsibilities and don't bake another poorly-timed disaster (Captain Crunch Berry Cupcakes are NOT what I figured they'd be) I should have another chapter out within the next week or so! Again, it's time to vote (now with new options)
> 
>  **(ORANGE)** Vader is rescued by Luke, who is currently oblivious to his relationship to Vader. Of course, this leads to misunderstandings, a very confused Jedi, and a smug-ass Sith Lord  
>  **(YELLOW)** Luke is a musician (in modern times or in a galaxy far far away? you decide) and Vader learns of his existence through music  
>  **(GREEN)** Vader learns that Leia is his daughter before ANH. Hilarity ensues when Vader attempts to push Leia towards the dark side during an interrogation and she is Not Having It. Of course, the moment Vader lets her go, some farmboy named Luke Skywalker comes to save her. Wait a minute... SKYWALKER?  
>  **(BLUE)** time travel three shot [first to ANH, then to the clone wars, then somewhere else. not sure where, so pretty please help me pick? I've had a lot of good ideas but I'm still unsure and would love some input!)  
>  **(INDIGO)** there's a peace treaty between the rebellion and the empire after the death of Palpatine. Zev and Vader meet, Piett is Very Tired, and Veers would like a shot of whiskey, please  
>  **(FALU)** Luke: 'Its not my bday' Vader: 'its definitely ur bday' Luke: 'give me a calendar, its not and i will prove it to y-oh. happy bday to me'  
>  **(XANADU)** Luke is undercover on a mission post-ESB. Vader catches him, but they're surrounded by people, so Luke tries to maintain cover and pretend he doesn't see Vader. This results in small talk with Admiral Piett, various mental communications between Vader and Luke, and, OF COURSE, Luke openly defying his father and watching the bridge emerge into chaos around him because 'How-Is-This-Child-Not-Dead'  
>  **(INCARNADINE)** Rebel youtube, basically, which I wanted to do ages ago but completely forgot abouttttt!
> 
> yes, if you're wondering, i googled 'colors you've never heard of' and found, xanadu, falu, incarnadine, and many more. ooh, by the way, purple is the most obnoxious color. _ask me why and you'll be my favorite_. 
> 
> (p.s.: be happy)


	16. Xanadu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke goes on a mission on the _Executor_. He's supposed to infiltrate the computer system to gain the Rebellion access to all of the Empire's transmissions. He ends up winning a bet and making Admiral Piett nearly have a breakdown on the bridge. So, just your average Tuesday!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE WRITING PROCESS:  
> -VADER CAN'T FIND HIM NOW BITCH!!!  
> -Chaos. He is spreading his force signature like herpes. EVERYWHERE. FORCE HERPES FUCK YEAH!  
> -piett+luke+vader=a bit not good for our admiral  
> -ughhhh building up the self esteem of a person i dont like  
> -SENTIENT EXECUTOR MAKES AN ENTRANCE  
> -executor uses emoticons. fucking fight me on this!  
> -can u think of a good threat? I'm finding it difficult to be evil now. D:  
> -*cries over phillip hamilton instead of writing*  
> -CAN I SHIP VEERS/VADER AND LUKE/ZEV WITHOUT IT BEING PROBLEMATIC
> 
> hello, my little glitter muffins! I hope ur all doing well today. I am tired. sooo tired. I abandoned my dignity and responsibilities to go on a four day trail ride a few days ago and I have N O T recovered. that being said, i hope you're all getting adequate amounts of sleep and living your best lives! this is XANADU. it ran away from me a little bit, and didn't go exactly how I thought it would, but I'm happy with it! Enjoy!

Luke fingered the flashdrive nervously, taking a moment to chew on his bottom lip. “He’ll know I'm there.”

Leia sighed, sharing a glance with Mon Mothma across the long conference table. “We don't know that, Luke. Besides, you’re the only one who’s… persuasion skills are advanced enough to get on that ship.”

“Luke isn't trained for espionage,” objected Zev. “Neither of us are. Besides, his lying skills are abysmal. If there _is_ a confrontation between us and Vader--”

“There won't be,” Mothma said. “The _Executor_ is the largest ship in the galaxy. The chances of you running into Vader are very, _very_ slim.”

“And if we do? We have _no_ backup, no extraction plan, not to mention the fact that we’re going in blind. Besides, our cover story-”

“-is the truth,” Leia spoke firmly. “You _are_ General Veers’ son, and you _are_ visiting the _Executor_ to get a better glimpse at the workings of the Imperial Navy.”

“That’s not all I'm doing,” Zev lifted the flashdrive from Luke’s hands, waving it in the air for emphasis. “What did you call this thing again?”

“A Trojan Horse mechanism,” Mothma nodded. “Named after some old story from another galaxy.”

“So we plug it into the computer, and the next time anyone puts in any data…” 

“... the Alliance knows about it,” Luke sighed.

“We’d have access to everything,” Mothma said. “Encrypted files, secret missions, everything and anything.”

“It’s a good idea.”

“It is.”

“And we need it.”

“We do,” Leia agreed. The Alliance had been struggling to cope with the losses they had sustained at the battle of Hoth. A resource like this would finally give them an advantage.

“Alright. So,” Zev drummed his fingers on the table, “if we do this, what’s the plan?”

“You go in with the armor shipments,” Mothma handed the two a datapad, “get to the computer room, and get out.”

“Great. Foolproof plan,” Zev hummed as he studied the holo of the _Executor_. “What could possibly go wrong?”

“The computer room should be here,” said Leia, tapping a small section on the top point of the flagship. “According to our intel, the cargo hold that will contain the supplies we’ll smuggle you in with should be right… here.”

Zev raised an eyebrow as she pointed to the opposite end of the ship. “How long will it take to get from that end of the ship to the other?”

“Possibly hours,” Mothma answered. 

“Hours?” Luke exclaimed. “If Vader senses me the minute I step foot in the hangar, we might not even have minutes.”

“Exactly,” Zev nodded. “Besides, if patrols stop us in the hall, flashing the Veers card really won't get us anywhere.”

“It could. Some of the troopers might buy it, and if they don't…”

“Commander Skywalker will use his persuasive skills to keep your assignment under wraps,” Mothma said. Luke frowned at this. “Something to add, Commander?”

“My father was,” _is_ , “a slave. That little fact tends to remind me why controlling people isn't the right thing to do.”

“I understand your reservations. But sometimes you have to do the wrong thing for the right reasons.”

Luke and Zev shared a glance. “Is there any other storyline we can think of? One that doesn't involve General Veers?”

“This is our best shot,” Leia said with a shake of her head. “Any team besides you two wouldn't work. Zev, you look just like Veers, and Luke, you can silence anyone who doesn't believe it. A larger group would be suspicious.”

“So it’s just us,” Zev sighed. “A while ago, Mothma, you told me that I wouldn't be put at a disadvantage because of my father.”

“And you won't be,” she replied smoothly. “I'm not sending you in just because you’re Veers’ son. Sure, it helps, but we have several officers with Imperial parents. You’re simply the most qualified.”

“And if there was someone more qualified with a family member on board?” Luke asked. 

“We’d send them in, of course.”

“Unless their father was Darth Vader,” Leia said jokingly. He knew she was trying to lighten things up, but Luke wasn't amused. “After all, we could never trust the son of a Sith.”

“No,” Luke said, clenching Zev’s hand under the table. “I guess you couldn't.”

________

“You know what this is? This is what I like to call a Skywalker Sandstorm, also known as a dreadfully ill-thought out plan that will surely end in the death of one or more Skywalkers if executed poorly.”

“Zev,” Luke groaned, flopping onto the bed, “I know what I'm doing.”

“Do you? _Really?_ ”

“It would help the Alliance, Zev, and you know it.”

“So what? Even if we manage to get to the computer room, there's no way we can get off that ship without Vader finding us. Not if he can sense you.”

“Then we’ll have to work fast.”

“No matter how fast we go, it won't be fast enough. Not enough to outwit Vader.”

“On the bright side, we’ll at least catch him off-guard. Who would think that a couple of rag-tag rebels, one of whom he’s been hunting for ages, would crash his party?”

“I wouldn't classify working on the _Executor_ as a party.”

“Either way, we’re crashing it.”

“The ship? The Admiral--what’s his name again?--”

“Firman-Something.”

“--won't be pleased.”

“We can write him an apology note.”

“How would that go? ‘Dear Admiral What’s-Your-Name, we’re terribly sorry for crashing your ship and causing the death of all your subordinates. We’ve included an apology fruit basket to show our remorse. Sincerely, the children of Darth Vader and General Veers.’”

“You made it sound like we’re the love children of two of the highest ranking Imperials in the galaxy.”

“Thank you for that, my love. Now I've imagined our parents having se-”

“No! Don't say it, you'll corrupt my innocence,” Luke held his arms over his head and curled in on himself.”

“Don't say what? Our father figures doing the dirty?”

“No!”

“Knocking boots?”

“Stop.”

“ _Canoodling?”_

Luke whined to himself, rubbing his eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you love me for it,” Zev smiled. 

Luke sobered up and bit his lip. “What if Vader catches us?”

“I won't let him get you.”

“I won't let him get _you_.”

“Luke, I can survive whatever he puts me through. You--”

“He won't hurt me. Not again.”

Zev glanced pointedly at Luke's clenched fist. “You think he feels guilty.”

“I think he has to.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, but I could feel it. His guilt was practically screaming at me through the Force.”

“Speaking of screaming at you through the Force, when was the last time he tried to reach out to you?”

“It went from three times a day to once a week. If that.”

Zev sighed. Vader’s mental communications with Luke had left the Jedi shivering for days on end when they first began. When he found out that Luke hadn't been getting much sleep because of it, he had been more than a little mad. “If I punch him next time I see him, he better acknowledge that it’s warranted.”

“You can't punch him, Zev. You’d probably hurt yourself more than you would him.”

“He can't Force choke me. You wouldn't let him get away with it.”

Luke frowned, looking down at the floor. “I tried not to let him get away with hurting Han and Leia.”

Zev cringed. He had hit a sore spot, clearly. Time to make like a biased conservative and change the subject. “High Command might be right. Maybe we _can_ evade Vader.”

“Maybe,” Luke sighed noncommittally. “With our luck, we’ll get past Vader and run into your father, instead.”

“I am _not_ ready to see my father,” Zev snorted. “Gods, how would that conversation even go?”

“‘Not very well,” Luke snorted. “We’d probably exasperate him to death, if that’s even possible.”

“Oh, I'm sure the General would expect nothing less of us.”

“‘The General’ has never even met me.”

“I bet he’ll be thoroughly underwhelmed when he does.”

“He probably imagined me taller.”

“He _definitely_ imagined you taller.”

——————-

Luke and Zev winced, stretching their backs after stepping out of the crate. They had hidden themselves inside the cargo being brought onto the _Executor_ , resulting in seven sore limbs and a cramped prosthetic. 

“I'm too young for back pain,” Zev groaned.

“Yeah, you’re not the only one,” Luke said, rubbing his neck tiredly. “I feel like an old man, my neck is so sore.”

“You don't get to talk, Skywalker. You were a tiny person in a tiny space. I was a large person in a tiny space. The two things don't compare.”

“I wouldn't say I'm _tiny_.”

“I would.”

“Alright,” Luke sighed. “Where should we go?”

Zev pulled up a small holo of the _Executor_ , eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “East. No, west. North?”

“Just say left or right.”

“That way,” Zev pointed to the nearest hallway. “Ready to cross a 19,000 meter ship stock full of Imps?”

Luke sighed, brushing off the knees of his stolen Imperial uniform. “Ready as I'll ever be.”

________

‘ _Luke_.’

Luke cringed, rubbing his forearms as a cold feeling enveloped him. 

‘ _Luke. I can feel your presence. You may be able to run from me, but you cannot run from your destiny_.’

The Jedi bit his lip, nudging Zev sharply on the side. “He knows.” 

Zev frowned and nodded. “Then we’d better hurry.”

Luke agreed silently, picking up his pace. Still, though, Vader’s baritone voice rang in his ears. ‘ _You cannot hide. Not on my ship. It was unwise of you to come if you truly mean to escape_.’

Luke gnawed harder on his lip, debating whether or not to clap back at this Sith. He was projecting his Force signature out into the walls of the Executor, spreading it across the ship and hoping it would help him go undetected. He just needed time to get to the control room and to get Zev to safety. That was all that mattered. 

Of course, a wrench was thrown in their nonexistent plans when Zev, who was hurrying down the hall, crashed directly into a tall, dark haired Imperial. 

“Sorry!” he exclaimed. 

The man stood up with a grunt, brushing nonexistent dirt off his uniform. “Watch where you’re going, soldier!” he snapped. Zev’s eyes widened as he recognized the man’s voice. Luke frowned. Oh no. This could _not_ be happening. 

“Wait a minute… Zev?”exclaimed the one and only Maximilian Veers.

Zev gaped at his father, and shook his head. “Erm… no?”

The General stared at him for a moment, then sighed and shook his head. He glanced around the otherwise empty corridor with a frown. “I must’ve taken a page out of Firmus’ book and accidentally surpassed my sleeping schedule,” he mumbled to himself, rubbing his eyes. “Clearly, I'm hallucinating.”

With that, the General straightened up and left the duo standing alone, dumbfounded, in the hall. “Did he just…”

“Yeah,” Luke said with a bewildered frown. “I guess he just doesn't get enough sleep.”

“That’s not like him,” Zev frowned. “I should go and make sure he's alright.”

He nearly went after the infamous General, but Luke grabbed his arm and held him back. “We can't, Zev. Vader’s already looking for us.”

“I… you’re right. Let’s just go. The sooner this is over, the better our chances are of escaping this Imperial hellhole.”

Luke opened his mouth to answer, but Vader tugged at the bond and distracted him from Zev. ‘ _Your denial of the dark side is pitiful_ ,’ Vader said. ‘ _Come with me, Luke. We can bring a new order to the gala-_ ’

Luke sighed and slammed his mental shields down again. “You’re right. Let's go.”

________

8,000 meters away, Firmus Piett frowned as he flicked through his datapad. Lord Vader had abruptly demanded that all traffic in and out of the _Executor_ be immediately stopped. No ship was to leave the flagship until he ordered it. 

Because of this, Piett was flicking through the camera feeds of the Lady, scouring the ship for… well. Whoever Lord Vader was searching for. 

After a few minutes had passed, Piett sighed, and glanced around the walls of the ship. He was standing alone in a corner of the bridge, and when he was certain no one was listening, he whispered, “A little help, my Lady?” 

The screen of his datapad glitched, then slowly fell dark. After a moment passed, Piett sighed. Perhaps the Lady herself hadn't been able to find the intruders. Just as he was about to give up, the screen flashed white again, then showed two men dressed in Imperial uniforms walking down a grey corridor. The screen went dark again, then it typed out, “ _They’re trying to corrupt me, Firmus! I'm so glad you’re_ finally _including me in on your little Skywalker Searches. You know I don't get out enough. This should be fun! :DDD_ ” 

Piett swore and pocketed his datapad, mentally cursing whatever ethereal force had made the Lady sentient. She was a huge help, of course, but it was a touch odd that the flagship of the Imperial navy was overjoyed about being infiltrated by a couple of riff-raff rebels with a death wish.

________

“Skywalker _could_ be a secret agent,” said a Stormtrooper that passed in front of Luke and Zev in the hall. He was talking to the man beside him, but Luke and Zev shared a curious look at his statement. “Maybe Vader’s just trying to find a way to pull him from deep cover without raising suspicions.”

Luke and Zev nodded to each other and followed the Stormtroopers down the hall. This seemed like a conversation they _had_ to hear. 

“No way,” scoffed the other trooper. “Skywalker is _obviously_ Vader’s lover.”

Luke balked, and Zev held back a sharp cough. That… wasn't quite right. Thankfully, the other Imperial in front of the two had the same opinion. “Don't be ridiculous, Kevin. _Vader_? Having a lover? Please.”

“Hey, at least I'm not the only one who thinks it! Loads of people in the betting pool said Vader and Skywalker must be a little… _more_ than enemies, if you get what I mean.”

“Loads?!” Zev couldn't help but exclaim from behind the duo. They spun around suspiciously to glare at Luke and Zev, blasters pointing up at their chests. 

“Who are you?” Kevin barked.

“Show us your identification,” the other trooper demanded. 

Luke winced, hesitantly stepping back. Zev took a moment to breathe, then stepped forward. It was his time to shine. 

“I needn't give my identification to the likes of _you_ ,” he sneered, channeling his Core accent that never failed to make Luke shiver. “Did your General not tell you I was arriving today?”

“Our General didn't tell us anything,” Kevin snapped. “If there was something we needed to know, he'd have mentioned it. Now who the hell are you?”

“My name is Zevulon Veers. I'm your General’s son, and far above explaining myself to the likes of _you_. Now get out of my way, or my father will see to it that your cushy positions are taken away from you, and the both of you bumbling buffoons will be demoted to sanitary where you belong.”

The troopers hesitated, but with a single Veers Eyebrow Raise Of Doom™ , Zev convinced them to back off. Before they left, Luke called out, “What if Skywalker is Vader’s son?”

The troopers turned back, tilting their heads. “Ha!” Kevin laughed. “And you thought _I_ was ridiculous.”

The other Stormtrooper snorted out a laugh that was quickly covered by a cough. “Y’know what, kid?” he clapped Luke on the shoulder. “If Luke Skywalker is Darth Vader’s son, you’ll win the whole bet, alright?”

“Sounds great,” Luke beamed. 

“And, uh,” Kevin laughed, “who exactly should we make the check out to? If you win.”

“When I win.”

“Sure.”

Luke opened his mouth to reply, but cut himself off abruptly. He couldn't exactly tell them he was Luke Skywalker. He was silent for a moment, and the stormtroopers shared a confused glance. 

At this point, the social awkwardness forged from 19 years living in the desert made him panic more than slightly. “Uh, I'm Sebulba,” he finally said loudly. 

Zev winced. “Don't you have anything better to do, gentlemen?” he snapped. 

The troopers snapped to attention and saluted him. “Yessir,” they responded sharply.

“Very well, then. Off you go, now, before I lose my temper with you.”

“Yessir. Sorry, sir.”

Luke watched them go with a frown. “Sebulba is my name, now.”

“So I've realized,” Zev drawled, his voice still resonating Core-world energy. “I don't suppose your Rogues would want to know about this, now would they?”

“D-don't be funny in your Core accent. You sound threatening.”

Zev cleared his throat. “My bad. I get a bit too much into it, sometimes.”

“It’s a wonder you didn't end up an Imperial. That whole scene was a little much, don't you think?”

“Oh, very,” Zev finally shook off most of his Core accent. “My father would be ashamed. He's never approved of nepotism.”

“My father, on the other hand…”

“Wants to rule the galaxy with you,” Zev sighed. “I'd be lying if I said a part of me didn't envy that.”

“Believe me,” Luke frowned, desperate to ignore the dark flames burning across his and Vader’s bond, “you don't.”

________

‘ _Luke.’_

_‘Luke.’_

_‘LUKE.’_

_‘You cannot hide forever, young one. Your little rebellion was exceedingly unwise to send you here. What in the galaxy are you planning, anyways? Surely, you would not be foolish enough to truly infiltrate an Imperial ship. Much less MINE.’_

Luke sighed, rubbing his eyelids. Having a father was new, uncharted territory. Having an overbearing, slightly protective, Sith for a father… well. That was even odder. “How much longer till we reach the control room?”

“Has he been trying to contact you?” Zev asked.

“Always.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” he slowed to a stop outside a grey sliding door, “we’re here.”

Luke grinned. “It _does_ make me feel better. Shall we?”

He tapped the door panel and stepped into the room with Zev, slowing to a stop when he was met with the sight of a clew of Imperials inside, led by an obviously exhausted Admiral. “Oop-” Zev said. 

Luke sighed. “‘Oop-’ is right.”

They were screwed.

________

“Luke,” Vader said, triumph evident in his tone. 

“Who?” Luke asked, turning away from him. Piett winced. The officers on the bridge looked away. No one, except for Piett and Vader, was exactly sure who this kid was, but disrespecting Lord Vader was _never_ a good idea.

Shockingly enough, to those stationed on the bridge, the boy wasn't killed immediately. Instead the Dark Lord of the Sith just sighed and snapped, “You cannot lie to me, young one. I know who you are. And I will learn the identity of your little friend, and believe me, he will pay for corrupting Luke Skywalker.”

“He didn't corrupt me! You can't hurt him.”

“So you admit that you are Luke Skywalker!”

“What?” exclaimed one of the stormtroopers guarding the door. “I thought that was Sebulba!”

Luke frowned for a minute, cocking his head. After a moment, he recognized the stormtrooper from the bet in the corridor. “Kevin?” 

“Not-Sebulba,” Kevin sighed. 

“Actually I’m Not-Vader’s-Lover, if you want to get technical.”

“Excuse me?” Vader snapped. “Explain. _NOW_.”

“It’s not that big of a deal. All you need to know is that I won a bet. Kevin, I'm sure you’ll be paying me later?”

“I made a bet with a terrorist,” the stormtrooper hysterically whispered to himself. Luke winced. Oops. 

Before he could explain himself any further, another angry Imperial shoved his way onto the bridge. “Lord Vader,” snapped General Veers, “if I may have a moment of your time?”

“I'm quite busy, General,” Vader replied, not taking his eyes off of Luke. “Children can be very insolent.”

“Oh, believe me,” Veers said, glaring at Zev, “I know a thing or two about insolent children.”

Luke glanced at Zev, and then stepped in front of him. “I don't think Zev wants to deal with you right now.”

“What?” Veers exclaimed. 

“Alright, everyone, I think we’re getting a little too heated,” Piett said, stepping between Luke and Veers. “Perhaps we could find a more private place to have this conversation? Not on my bridge, preferably.”

“Hush, Firmus. Zevulon, a word?”

Luke glanced back at Zev's slightly panicked face, shoved Zev behind Vader and snatched the cap off of Piett’s head. He deposited the hat on Zev’s quaffed hair and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s a Zev? He’s not here.”

Vader pushes Zev out from behind him. “Explain,” he growled. 

“He doesn’t have to explain anything to you,” Zev retorted.

“On the contrary, he does. I’m afraid, young one, that this is your last chance to talk before I snap your little friend’s airway in half.”

Luke glanced at Veers. The General looked like he was bound to object, but ultimately bit his lip and kept his mouth shut. Luke frowned. “You can’t kill him. If you did, you’d lose me and hopefully your General forever.”

Vader scoffed. “I will lose no such thing.”

“Yes, Father,” Luke nearly faltered over the foreign word, “you will. Because he’s General Veers’ son. And he’s my f… friend.”

After a brief stare down between the Sith and the Jedi, Vader conceded to Luke’s point. “Very well, young one. But do not think for a moment that this is over.”

Luke just nodded. Zev hesitantly stepped closer to his father, an awkward grimace on his face. “I’m guessing you know you weren’t hallucinating.”

Veers snorted. “Clearly.”

“How’d you figure it out?” Luke asked. 

“It was quite simple, actually. A couple of my troopers commed me, a minute ago. They were wondering why I didn't mention that my _son_ was coming aboard. When I asked what they meant, they replied that a very convincing-looking man was claiming to be my son. They thought it must be the truth, considering we looked practically identical, excluding our respective eye colors. And so, I wondered, who the _Hells_ would be foolish and reckless enough to infiltrate the FLAGSHIP OF THE IMPERIAL NAVY pretending to be my son? The answer was, of course, my son. What were the two of you thinking?!”

“In my defense,” Zev sighed, “I tried to tell him it was a bad idea.”

“But things were going well! Of course, our cover was blown by a sentient ship,” Luke frowned at Vader. “You’re the only person I know who’s dramatic enough to have a _sentient_ ship.”

“I am not _dramatic_ , young one. You would be wise not to insinuate it again.”

Luke snorted. Vader looked to Piett, expecting the Admiral to leap to his defense, but the man was studiously studying a scuff on the floor of the _Executor_. Veers whistled nervously, glancing out a viewport to distract himself. 

“I am _not_ dramatic.”

“Well,” Luke hummed, his tone annoyingly petulant, “Ahsoka and Rex say otherwise.”

Vader’s heart lurched. “When did you meet them?!”

“A few weeks ago,” Zev sighed. “That was a real low point. We had an accident on Xanadu, and…”

“Shshshshsh. We don’t talk about that,” Luke reminded him.

“Whatever lies Ahsoka and my former Captain told you—“

“I mean, Ezra backed it up too.”

“—it would be wise not to believe them.”

“Oh, let him believe who he wants to believe!” Zev protested. “You’ve been controlling enough. Honestly, I don’t think you understand how forgiving he is.”

“Control your tongue,” Vader growled. 

“Zev, hush,” Veers hissed. 

“It’s fine,” Luke frowned. “Zev, do you have something you want to say?”

“Yes, actually, I do,” Zev snapped, spinning to glare at Vader. “First of all, how _dare_ you?!”

Luke covered a laugh with a harsh cough as Vader gaped at him. Veers tried to hush Zev again, but the rebel simply shook him off. “You, Lord Vader, have no right whatsoever to criticize your son’s life choices, when you’ve made many awful ones yourself.”

Luke winced as Zev’s Core accent bled into his words. He was _angry_. 

“Not only have you failed to protect Luke time and time again, but you’ve hurt him in ways no other person has. You’re kriffed up, my Lord, and as someone who comes from the second most insane family in the galaxy, that’s truly saying something.”

“Zev, do _not_ disrespect Lord Vader as such!” Veers exclaimed. Zev just waved him off. 

“Vrogas Vos, Hoth, Yavin, there are a countless amount of moments in which Luke very well could have died because of your destructive tendencies. Hells, I’ve not even mentioned the time you cut off his ha—“

“Alright, Zev,” Luke cut in quickly. “We get the picture. It’s fine, he’s fine, I’m fine, we’re all fine, so… let’s just drop it, all right?”

“No, Luke,” Vader snarled. His mind was working a mile a minute, eyes darting between Luke and Zev furiously. He knew that look in his son’s eye. He knew what it meant. Luke was in love with this ‘Zev’ person. At least, he thought he was. “I’m afraid it’s not ‘alright’. How long, exactly, have you been having sexual intercourse with my son, Zevulon?”

Luke flinched. He hadn’t expected Vader to figure that one out. At least, not so quickly. By that point, Vader wasn't the only one who had figured things out. 

“You…” Veers groaned, rubbing his eyelids. “Dammit, Zev. I kriffing _wish_ I was surprised.”

Luke frowned. “Hey, maybe this isn't-”

“Not now, Luke,” Zev snapped, glaring at Vader. 

“Do not presume to tell my _son_ what to do, boy. Such an act would be as regrettable as forgetting that I am _perfectly_ capable of breaking your neck with the snap of my fingers.”

“Don't tell Luke what to do? Gee, that’s awfully hypocritical of you.”

“I have the right to guide my _son_ down the path to the Dark Side.”

“You aren't _guiding_ him anywhere, you’re taking advantage of his orphan complex!”

“Hey,” Luke said. Of course, his weak protest was ignored by the angry Sith. 

“I am not _taking advantage_ of anything. You, on the other hand, have clearly been taking advantage of my child from the moment you met!”

Zev glared at him. Luke could imagine smoke coming out of his ears, and he quickly shook his head at the Commander. _Please, Zev_ , he thought desperately. He knew Zev wasn't Force sensitive, but maybe if he projected his thoughts enough, his boyfriend would somehow hear it. _Don't-_

“Taking advantage of him?” Zev burst. “If taking advantage of my Farmboy is having sex with him, then I'll take advantage all I want! After all, I'm allowed to have sex with my _fiancee_.”

- _say it. Dammit, Zev._

“Your _what_?!” Veers exclaimed. “Zev, you don't mean to tell me that he--that Lord Vader’s son… that… I need a drink.”

“Yes, I mean to tell you that. Would you like to know what I mean to tell _you_ , Lord Vader?” he smiled sweetly, turning to the Sith. “Kriff off!”

“That’s quite enough. Out!” Piett finally said, pointing to the door. 

“Excuse us?” Veers exclaimed. 

“Tread carefully, Admiral. I would not want you to _choke_ on your ambitions,” Vader said. Luke wrinkled his nose at the malicious dad joke. 

“My lord,” Piett sighed, “you know I respect you. You know I will follow your orders, no matter the cost. But I will _not_ allow you to prance onto my bridge—”

“Prance!” Zev cackled. 

“—disrupt my officers, and cause a commotion. Keep your Skywalker-Veers family drama away from me and my bridge, or I'll blow you out the airlock myself, you overdramatic, puffed up, mockery of a family!”

“Excuse you!” 

“Out!” 

““Fine then, Firmus,” Veers cleared his throat. “We’re leaving.” He clapped the Admiral on the back and headed out the door of the bridge, Zev on his heels. Zev’s arm was linked through Luke’s, who mouthed a quick ‘ _sorry_ ’ to Piett as he passed by. 

The last to leave was Lord Vader. 

“‘Blow you out the airlock myself,’ Admiral?” Vader hummed. 

Piett straightened up ready to feel a tight, invisible pressure encircle his throat. He had gotten angry. That never ended well. “My apologies, my lord.”

Shockingly, instead of ending the Admiral’s life, Vader just glared at him, spun in his heel, and walked away. Once he left, the bridge was quiet. After a few moments, though, that silence was broken. 

“He finally snapped!” crowed an admissions officer. “Take that, Kevin! Now you owe me 69 credits.”

 _Great_ , Piett thought. _They’ve been betting on my patience._

“Back to work,” he called. It simply wouldn’t do to fall behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! Zevvie was _angry_. Poor Piett. The man just wants to watch over his bridge in peace. Also, Mothma made some Bad Choices in this, in regards to the mission, but everyone makes bad choices... right? Well, maybe not her. OMG NOW I WANNA WRITE A FIC WHERE MOTHMA IS EVIL OR WORKING WITH VADER SECRETLY OR SOMETHING ALKJFLDKAJF. anyways.  
> now, just before i posted this, i realized. That there is FINALLY. Another fanfic with Luke/Zev in it. AHHHH I haven't read it yet, but it's by SpellCleaver, so it's TOTALLY going to be amazinggg!!!! I'm getting really excited but my beta said I had to post before I read it, which is why the author's notes might seem kinda rushed. 
> 
> VOTING TIME:
> 
>  **(ORANGE)** Vader is rescued by Luke, who is currently oblivious to his relationship to Vader. Of course, this leads to misunderstandings, a very confused Jedi, and a smug-ass Sith Lord  
>  **(YELLOW)** Luke is a musician (in modern times or in a galaxy far far away? you decide) and Vader learns of his existence through music  
>  **(GREEN)** Vader learns that Leia is his daughter before ANH. Hilarity ensues when Vader attempts to push Leia towards the dark side during an interrogation and she is Not Having It. Of course, the moment Vader lets her go, some farmboy named Luke Skywalker comes to save her. Wait a minute... SKYWALKER?  
>  **(BLUE)** time travel three shot [first to ANH, then to the clone wars, then somewhere else. not sure where, so pretty please help me pick? I've had a lot of good ideas but I'm still unsure and would love some input!)  
>  **(INDIGO)** there's a peace treaty between the rebellion and the empire after the death of Palpatine. Zev and Vader meet, Piett is Very Tired, and Veers would like a shot of whiskey, please  
>  **(FALU)** Luke: 'Its not my bday' Vader: 'its definitely ur bday' Luke: 'give me a calendar, its not and i will prove it to y-oh. happy bday to me'  
>  **(INCARNADINE)** Rebel youtube, basically, which I wanted to do ages ago but completely forgot abouttttt!  
>  **(AQUAMARINE)** Leia is raised by Vader. probably ends up dark. then, she meets this weird-ass farmboy named Luke SKywalker who seems oddly familiar...
> 
> Alrighty! Pretty please Kudos and Comment! I love hearing from you all more than anything in the world, and I've been in a bit of a funk because of some family issues as of late, so I could really use a smile! Anyways, I really wanna go read that fanfic now, soooooo... BYE!!
> 
> (p.s.: be happy)


	17. A Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader figures out who Leia is on the Death Star. He thinks she should use the Force. She disagrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi my lovely cinnamon rolls and SINnamon rolls! Not going to lie, it’s 12:38 where I am and I’m very tired, so I’ll get right to it!  
> This chapter was suggested by @CharieC ages ago, and was voted for by a bunch of y’all! It ended up being tied between this and orange, and I was kind of hyped for both, but I figured I should get GREEN finished, because if not I’d probably put it off. Writing Leia and Vader’s interactions isn’t my forte but I enjoyed this one! It’s short, but I’ve decided that I’m going to get something out every 2 weeks at the very latest! School is starting for me soon, and it’s my first year of high school, so I have no idea what to expect. Anyways, I really hope you like it!

“I won,” Leia said. The sixteen year old slumped into her seat in relief. She had (finally) won a seat in the Imperial Senate, after months of non stop campaigning. Her father grinned, and clapped her on the shoulder.

She, Bail, and Breha were gathered in the viewing room of their palace on Alderaan, watching the outcome of the election on the HoloNet. Leia’s competitor, N’van Hildensberg, was a supporter of the Empire to the utmost degree. If he had won the race, who knows what sort of basic rights he would’ve helped take away from the people of the galaxy.

While Leia dug into a slice of cake to celebrate her win, Bail and Breha shared a nervous glance. “Leia,” Bail said cautiously, “this is a time for great celebration. I could not be prouder of you, my daughter, but know that some people will not share my sentiment.”

Leia slowly set down her cake and nodded. “I understand, Father,” she said. “We don't support the Empire. Many dignitaries will disagree with that notion.”

“There’s a… very large glob of chocolate on your upper lip, dear,” Breha smiled, “and yes, that’s correct. But we know you can hold your own against common Imperials. What we’re worried about is… well.”

“What?” Leia asked, wiping her lip with a napkin.

“In short,” Bail sighed, “if Darth Vader learns of our rebel ties-”

“He won't.”

“-you must proceed with caution.”

“Even if he does uncover our secrets, which is highly doubtful, I won't tell him a thing. Not even _he_ can break me.” Even as she said it, Leia knew it was a lie. She had been afraid of Darth Vader since she was a child. Even when she was only seven, she had been plagued with dreams of mechanical breathing, a blond haired boy, and a frantic voice crying for Ani. If anyone could break her, it would be him.

“Vader has his ways,” was all Breha said, studiously ignoring Leia’s past terror surrounding the Sith.

“But you also have yours,” Bail acknowledged. “So please, Leia--and _don’t_ fight me on this--if you’re ever in a position where you must choose between risking your life and giving up sensitive intelligence-”

“I won't say a word,” Leia said defensively. “I can't compromise the cause!”

“Allow your father to finish, dear,” Breha serenely cut in, pressing a soothing hand on Leia’s arm. “We aren't saying what you think we are.”

Apprehensively, Leia glanced to Bail. The ex-Senator took a moment to worry for his daughter. He had raised her to be Padme’s child, but he feared she was far more like her biological father than he had ever imagined. “Go on.”

“If you are ever placed in a situation where you are forced to choose between torture at the hands of Darth Vader or the betrayal of the rebellion,” Bail began, “choose neither.”

“Create an option that didn't exist?” Leia raised a brow. “How?”

“Tell Vader who your mother is,” Breha said.

“As intimidating as you are, I doubt anyone’s name could bring Vader to his knees.”

“Padme Amidala’s could.”

Dead. Silence.

“My birth mother… is _Padme Amidala_?”

All talk of Vader and the Empire faded into the background after that.

* * *

Three years later, Princess Leia Organa was gazing up definitely at the very Sith her father had warned her against ages ago. “If you’re looking for information, Lord Vader, I'm afraid you won't find it. I don't know where the rebel base is.”

“I'm quite certain you do, Princess,” Vader sneered.

Leia schooled her features and stood up a bit straighter under his criticizing eye. “I. Don't. Know.”

“Perhaps I can jog your memory,” he motioned to the open cell door, and Leia watched in apprehension as a mini-Death Star esque interrogation droid floated into the room. She opened her mouth to protest, but glanced back at Vader and ultimately decided against it.

The door slid shut with a hiss, and Leia stood up, crushing herself further into the corner of her cell. “I don't know where the base is!”

“I very much doubt that, Princess.”

The interrogation droid drew closer, and Leia debated telling Vader the second-biggest secret she had ever kept.

_If you are ever placed in a situation…_

It grew closer, still, a small droplet of serum dripping out the end of the needle.

_... where you are forced to choose between torture at the hands of Darth Vader..._

Her birth mother would contend with the Empire. Everyone knew that. Despite what Bail thought, mentioning Padme Amidala might make the situation even worse for her.

_... or the betrayal of the rebellion…_

That being said, she had no other choice if she wanted to avoid being tortured. Other than betraying the rebellion, which wasn’t an option.

_... choose neither._

“My mother was Padme Amidala!”

And, in true ~~Skywalker~~ Organa fashion, it all went to shit from there.

“You lie,” Vader snapped. Leia stood up even straighter and tipped up her chin. The monster of a man glared down at her, but she wouldn’t falter.

“My mother was Padme Amidala,” Leia persisted. “She died after I was born.”

“There is no proof of this!”

“My life is proof enough. My adopted father, Bail Organa, was a close friend of hers. She passed me on to him when it became clear that she wouldn't survive.”

This was, unfortunately, a bold faced lie. Leia had no idea how she had gotten into the hands of Bail and Breha. There were no written documents that placed her in their custody, and the general public of Naboo didn't even know she was alive.

Her father had explained why it must remain that way. Still, though, a part of Leia ached for recognition. When the tabloids called her the most successful young politician since Padme Amidala, she barely withheld the urge to tell the galaxy the truth.

But because of her mother’s identity, she would be putting herself and her planet at risk if she were to tell them the truth. Which is why Leia couldn't help but wonder why Bail had asked her to reveal her mother’s identity. Surely, it would do nothing to help. But in the end, Leia trusted her father’s instincts.

_And it’s a good thing I did_ , she couldn't help but think as Vader flung the menacing interrogation droid into the wall behind him.

* * *

“I don't have _any_ idea what you're talking about,” Leia deadpanned, her arms crossed over her chest. “Now, if you’d kindly release my from this ce--”

“Hush,” Vader snapped. “Have you ever somehow made things move without touching them? Been able to find things others could not? Perhaps, even, glimpsed the future?”

Leia raised a tired eyebrow and sighed. “You _can't_ be serious. If this is all pish-posh, Lord Vader, designed to throw me off my game, I'm afraid you’ll have to try harder.”

“The Force is not _pish-posh_.”

“It is.” It wasn't. But Leia wouldn't give the Sith the satisfaction of admitting otherwise. “Now, Lord Vader, it’s against Imperial law to hold an innocent being hostage on a warship. If you’re quite done, I should be more than free to go.”

“You would not pass up on your destiny so quickly.”

“You are not my destiny. I have higher aspirations than to be at the will of a _man_ for the rest of my days.”

“As you should. You clearly have the same powers as your father, not to mention the ambition of your mother. You will go far, little one, if only you allow me to steer you towards the one true path; the path of the Dark Side.”

“... I'm afraid you lost me. You knew my birth parents?” Leia’s heart surged. Bail was open about her mother, but not open enough. Leia hadn't the faintest idea who her father was.

“I did,” Vader said, clearly satisfied to have peaked her interest. “You could say I knew your father better than he knew himself.”

“If you'd kindly cut the dramatics, I'd be far more inclined to listen to you.”

“He was a good man,” Vader nodded. “Loyal, strong. The galaxy will never forget him.”

“What was his name?”

“In truth, he was his own demise. He was so trusting in the light side, the Jedi, that he lost everything.”

“If you please, Lord Vader, stop being so unbearably cryptic and _tell me his name!_ ”

Vader leaned back smuggly. “You are much like him. Your anger drives you, pushes you, to become more what you are. You must embrace it, little one, and--”

“I'll cut you off right there. Firstly, I'm not ‘little’, Lord Vader. You’re clearly mistaking me for something else.” After taking a pointed look at his crotch, she continued, “And secondly, if you _truly_ knew who my father was you wouldn't dramatacise it. You're obviously trying to force me to reveal rebel secrets, and I'm afraid that won't work. Seeing as how I don't know them,” she hurriedly snapped. Her cover was most likely blown by now, but she couldn't help but try to deflect it.

Vader balked at that, and took a step back. “I-if you’ll excuse me…” he stuttered before rushing out the door. Leia leaned back, thoroughly satisfied. It must’ve been the dick joke.

* * *

It was definitely the dick joke.

Five minutes later, an incredibly exasperated Vader crosses his arms, glaring at the seated princess. Leia rolled her eyes. He was angry for the silliest reasons. He was a Sith, though, so she shouldn’t have expected anything different.

“I’ll ask again,” he said slowly, pacing the floor in front of her. “When. Was. The. Last. Time. You. Slept?”

Leia sighed. “I don’t see why you care.”

“Just answer the question. I need to know how much damage I’m dealing with, Princess. Surely, you would not give so little care to your own health that you’d out off sleep for… weeks?”

“Oh, please. On the political scene, sleep very often isn't an option. Besides, sleep is for the weak. I need an hour a night, at most.”

“You are unwise to compromise yourself as such,” Vader wagged a finger in her face. Leia just rolled her eyes. Whatever Vader was trying to theatrically tell her, she wouldn't break. He couldn't know the location of the rebel base. Not when everything was at stake.

“I sleep as much as is necessary. Sometimes there simply isn't time for more than that.”

“Your mother was much the same. I loathed watching her fall into such destructive habits. I will not allow you to do the same.”

“I fail to see why you presume to ‘allow me’ to do anything,” Leia said cooly, holding back a shiver at the reminder that Vader knew her mother. “You’re my captor, are you not? Don’t presume to act like my father because you met my birth mother. Now, if you’re quite done ‘Lord’ Vader, I really need not waste my time with the likes of you.”

“You are not wasting your time,” Vader persisted. “Sleep is important, little one. You’re still growing.”

“I wish. I’m afraid I’ll be this short for the rest of my life, Lord Vader. There’s no hope for me in that regard.”

“Sleep, little one. Or hear me out on a more sensitive subject.”

“I’m all ears.”

“The Force is—“

“Ah, the Force. I have no need to concern myself with secret powers and magic, Lord Vader. Politics can be stressful enough, especially when they lead to occurrences like these.”

“The Force is your birthright. In time, you will learn to wield it, and together, we will create a new order in the gala-”

“I have no interest in this ‘Force’ of yours. I _will_ bring peace to the galaxy, Lord Vader, you can be sure of that, but I'm happy to do so on my own terms, rather than those of a deranged Sith Lord.”

“Watch your tongue.”

“Biologically impossible, Lord Vader.”

Vader snarled to himself, and opened his mouth to snap back at the child. For a well-rounded senator, her disrespect was astounding. Unfortunately, his comlink beeped, interrupting him before he could lecture the girl. Growling, he wagged a finger in her face. “We will continue this conversation when I return.”

Leia frowned, mimicking him as he left.

* * *

“You must understand, Lord Vader,” Tarkin sneered, “the Emperor demands to know the location of the base. If he is not told… well. You can be certain that the Death Star is fully operational for a reason.”

“We are _not_ going to blow up Alderaan,” Vader repeated. _She’d never forgive me._

Tarkin sighed. “Why not?”

“Entire ecosystems would be wiped out.” _And Leia would be angry._ “Millions, no, billions of people would die!” _Not to mention the fact that Leia would be angry._ “We cannot, in good conscience, destroy Alderaan.” … _Because Leia would be angry._

The Imperials around the table shared an annoyed glance. “Lord Vader. Are you, perhaps, hesitating to destroy the planet because of Princess L—”

“ _No…_.” The Imperials shared another look, and Vader jumped up to say, “The one thing you’ve clearly not given any thought to the consequences of such an action. Destroying a planet, especially one in the Core, brings attention to the Empire. Not the good kind. Destroyed a planet known as the ‘crown jewel of the core’ spells disaster for all those involved.”

“Especially the poor folks on the planet,” muttered a stormtrooper guarding the door. Tarkin’s eyes snapped to him.

“Is there something you’d like to say, Kevin?” he spat. Kevin was silent. “Good. Then hush up and do your job. Lord Vader, a show of force would be wise in a situation like this.”

“Yes, indeed. But the destruction of an entire planet is too much force.”

“‘Too much Force,’ says the Sith,” mumbled Kevin.

“Shut it!” Tarkin snapped. “My lord, I apologize for my reckless guard’s behavior. Clearly, we must look into his training—“

“There are more pressing matters at the moment, Grand Moff. Your desire to see the Death Star in action has overtaken all other sensibilities. You so carelessly throw away the lives of every sentient and non sentient being on that planet, simply to watch the explosion. You, Grand Moff, are nothing more than a sadistic fraud who wishes to, quite literally, watch the world burn.”

“Preach,” whispered Kevin, low enough that Tarkin couldn’t hear. Vader’s own hyper-sensitive hearing barely picked up on it. In his mind, he made a mental note to have Kevin reassigned to the _Devastator_. The stormtrooper showed promise.

“Lord Vader,” Tarkin snapped, oblivious to Kevin’s commentary, “if you’re so against the Death Star, then I’d greatly advise you leave.”

Shockingly, Vader stood. “Gladly,” he said with glee as he turned on his heel and marched out of the room, his cape flourishing behind him.

“Kriffing legend,” Kevin admired as he left.

“Dammit, Kevin!” Tarkin exclaimed.

* * *

The Death Star exploded. A moon sized battle station had exploded. _Ironic_ , Vader couldn’t help but think, _considering the station’s purpose_.

Thankfully (or not, depending on who you ask), Leia had been secreted away by her little rebel friends before the station’s untimely demise. Vader was unsure whether to be relieved or enraged. After a moment of contemplation, he settled on relievedly enraged.

“Hey, my lord,” nodded Kevin, stepping over to him. Vader withheld a sigh. Though the man showed promise, he was more unprofessional than Vader had expected.

“If you’ve something to say,” Vader snapped, “speak quickly.”

Kevin handed Vader a datapad. “Some of the security files from the Death Star got backed up into a network, so we’ve got info on the rebels that snatched the princess.”

Vader's heart tightened in his chest. Hurriedly, he clicked on the video. For a moment, all he saw was his daughter, laying on the bench. He was overwhelmed with loathing for the situation he had forced her into. The girl had no other choice than to leave with these strangers. And, even if she did, she would never wish to stay with him.

His heart tightened in something very different than love when the short not-Stormtrooper barged into her cell. Honestly, the boy could have knocked first! Did he have no manners? It’s as if he was her brother, shoving his way into her room unannounced.

Vader smiled vindictively when Leia made a comment regarding the rebel's height. Yes! Fight the small not-Stormtrooper. He would do the same to you.

“ _I’m Luke Skywalker,_ ” said the boy on the tape. “ _And I’m here to rescue you!”_

Wh… what?

Vader gaped at the security holo. Apparently, he _was_ her brother, barging into her room unannounced. Would the secrets never end? Already, he had been so certain that he’d found everything that had been hidden from him. That the aching piece of his heart had simply been longing for Padme. But no. Instead, he had yet again been misled. Now, he knew the truth. And he would scour every inch of the galaxy until he found his childre—

“Hey!” exclaimed Kevin. “Isn’t ‘Skywalker’ the name of some bouje ass Jedi?”

“ _Quiet_ , Kevin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I hope you liked it!! Leia’s attitude through this whole thing is very much “I don’t wanna be here so I’m going to make you as miserable as you’re making me.” It was weird not to have Luke or Zev or Piett in a fic but I didn’t hate it? That being said, Luke and Piett are more fun to write because Pietts always suffering and Luke is Luke. Kevin seemed to be a well liked character, so here’s a bit of his background! In my head, Vader recruited him because a.) he talked back to people Vader didn’t like and b.) he showed promise. Kevin ends up being That Guy you never want to work with on a group project because they’ll try so ducking hard and just... fail at everything you ask them to do. ALSO I have a bunch of OCs you haven’t been introduced to yet, because there hasn’t been a good time to be like “YEET HERES ZEVS SQUADRON THAT I JUST MADE UP JUST NOW” but that’s a thing that exists. So give me an excuse to write something wl all of them and it’ll be great!!  
> Voting is important in your everyday lives and it’s important now! I can’t vote cause I’m a “child” but here’s democracy, my lovez!
> 
> **(ORANGE)** Vader is rescued by Luke, who is currently oblivious to his relationship to Vader. Of course, this leads to misunderstandings, a very confused Jedi, and a smug-ass Sith Lord  
>  **(YELLOW)** Luke is a musician (in modern times or in a galaxy far far away? you decide) and Vader learns of his existence through music  
>  **(BLUE)** time travel three shot [first to ANH, then to the clone wars, then somewhere else. not sure where, so pretty please help me pick? I've had a lot of good ideas but I'm still unsure and would love some input!)  
>  **(INDIGO)** there's a peace treaty between the rebellion and the empire after the death of Palpatine. Zev and Vader meet, Piett is Very Tired, and Veers would like a shot of whiskey, please  
>  **(FALU)** Luke: 'Its not my bday' Vader: 'its definitely ur bday' Luke: 'give me a calendar, its not and i will prove it to y-oh. happy bday to me'  
>  **(INCARNADINE)** Rebel youtube, basically, which I wanted to do ages ago but completely forgot abouttttt!  
>  **(AQUAMARINE)** Leia is raised by Vader. probably ends up dark. then, she meets this weird-ass farmboy named Luke SKywalker who seems oddly familiar...
> 
> ALSO ALSO ALSO I NEED HELP PLEASE!! There’s no ship name for Zev/Luke cause it’s super not well known and I hate having to go out of my way to capitalize two numbers and press the slash button cause it’s a lot of work and on my phone I have to switch keyboards so I can do the slash mark and it’s a lot of work. Soooo... pretty please give me ship name ideas? HELP ME READERS AND COMMENTORS YOU’RE MY ONLY HOPE
> 
> (p.s.: be happy)  
> (p.p.s: it is now 12:58 WHY DOES IT TAKE ME 20 MINUTES TO THINK OF TITLES AND CHAPTER NOTES AND FJAJFJKWNFA)  
> (p.p.p.s.: sorry for the pure chaos that is this authors note actually is it more put together when I’m tired??? Huh well I’m chaos so yee)  
> (p.p.p.p.s.: if you’re up late go to sleep as the mom friend in my friend group I urge you to rest you don’t want to be like sleep deprived me)


	18. Of Course (FALU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Force enjoys Yeeting our favorite Imperials through space. Luke and Zev have a not-so-private chit-chat about boundaries and dad jokes. And, of course, Luke is captured on his birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my strawberry banana muffins! So. Falu was the most suggested color, which is fun! And it’s what I did, so yay! That being said, though, I also have some of indigo partially written cause I wanted to write some cracky angst where Zev shoots Luke. NOT FATALLY, chill yourselves. Anyways, after scaring some people on a sw discord, I got an idea for Falu that. Well. Wasn’t exactly what I had planned?? BUT, it’s better than what I had planned. THAT BEING SAID, I very well might do a Vader-Kidnaps-Luke-For-His-Bday fic sometime again, bc while it’s a part of this, it’s not very widely focused on. And like... I said “of course” like fifty times in this chapter, sooooo. TITLE DROP HONEYYY.
> 
> EDIT: just realized I kind of yeeted Zev’s squadron at you in this wl no warning or explanation! All the aliens are members of his squadron, and one of the humans is too. Yes, they all have names! I didn’t want to be too extra with it, so I just gave you the basics! Also, it’s 4:08 AM and I can’t sleep :DD

General Veers’ troops had nearly been lost during their last mission, and morale was low in the barracks. This prompted a meeting between the General and the Sith that would hopefully serve to raise morale and come up with new battle strategies. It was meant to be productive. So, of _course_ , everything went wrong. 

“Indeed, General,” Vader had been saying, his hands glued to his hips. “Though, if we bring the troops in from the east entrance—”

Then, of course, the room went dark. Veers barely managed to hold back a swear. “It seems the power’s gone out, my lord,” he said instead. 

Vader shook his head in the darkness. “The Lady’s power doesn’t just _go out_ , General. You and the Admiral are close, are you not? Surely he would’ve told you this.”

Veers kept up a stony cold facade, but winced on the inside. Darth Vader knowing information about his personal life was never a fun fact. He began to reply, but just as he opened his mouth, the darkness slowly brightened up.

As the light grew and grew, Veers and Vader quickly came to the conclusion that they were _not_ on the _Executor_ anymore. Instead, they seemed to be standing in a large, white void, surrounded by nothingness as far as the eye could see. 

“My lord,” Veers said hesitantly, turning in a circle, “what’s the meaning of this?”

“If I knew,” the Sith growled, “I would tell you.” Then, the Sith drew out his lightsaber, igniting it with a hiss. Veers reached for his hip, feeling bare without his blaster. Oh, well. His fists were surely a good substitute.

“Is there someone here, my lord?” asked Veers, never one to mince his words. Lord Vader’s abilities were well known by most on the _Executor_ , though no one knew the exact extent of his powers. Some tiptoed around the subject, as if they were walking on eggshells. Veers didn't care for that. 

“I sense a presence, though I'm not sure,” the Sith whipped around to look behind him, “where.”

Veers turned, and sure enough, behind them stood a tall, elegant humanoid, it’s hair swirling around it in waves. “Hello there,” it hummed, waving a single hand at the duo.

Immediately, Vader went on the offensive, shielding Veers from the being. “Who are you?” he demanded. “Why have you brought us here?”

The creature sighed, and made little finger guns at the two. “Not my fault you’re messing up the galaxy.”

Veers gaped at it. “Ex _cuse_ y-”

“Sh,” it sighed again. “Look, as much as I'd love to stay and chat with the Chosen One-”

Vader growled. 

“-and his Chosen General,” it snickered to itself, the joke flying right over Veers’ head, “I don't have a lot of time. There's lots of lives for me to meddle with, remember?”

“What are you?” Vader asked again, pointing his lightsaber at it. “You will answer me, now, or you will regret it.”  
  


It sighed. “Really? You, of all people, should know what I am. I created you, didn't I?”

“You lie.”

“Please. That’s your master’s profession.”  
  


Vader snarled, and tore his lightsaber through the creature’s pale torso. It looked down at the burn marks and rolled it’s eyes. “Rude.”

Veers watched in awe as the cut seemed to heal itself. Vader was less than surprised. “The physical manifestation of the Force,” he laughed bitterly. “Of course.”  
  


Veers opened his mouth to disagree, because that _wasn't possible_ , but was swiftly interrupted by the so-called Force. “Exactly,” it beamed. “I'd have expected you to recognize me sooner, if you weren't so immersed in the Dark Side of me nowadays. Force, you couldn't even recognize your own so-”

“Excuse me,” Veers snapped, sidestepping the Sith to glare at the being. “But is there something you need? We were quite busy.”

“Yeah,” it snorted, “busy kriffing with the galaxy.”

“We aren't-”

“Oh, you know what you do. Now, it's become increasingly clear to me that you have no idea what you’re doing with your lives.”  
  


“And who are you to say such a thing?”

“Wh-who am I? Are you kidding me with this guy?” It turned to Vader with a glare. “I blame you for this.”  
  


“You blame me for everything,” Vader sharply replied. It rolled it’s eyes. 

“No, Ani, _you_ blame you for everything.”  
  


“ _Don't call me_ -”

“Regardless,” it sighed, “someone has to fix your mistakes. You kriffed up your lives. Not to mention, your children’s lives, which really sucks for everyone, considering now I have to deal with your mini-dopplegangers.”

Veers’ eyes narrowed. Now, he was done with this… mystical energy Force. He'd had enough. “Stay _out_ of my family’s business.”  
  


“I tried,” it groaned, holding its arms in the air in a ‘please-don't-shoot’ motion. “It’s not my fault the two of you could start a soap opera with your family drama!”

“How _dare_ -”

“Hey, man, I've been here since the beginning of time. I _dare_ to do a lot of shavit I probably shouldn't. How do you think Lord Dark-And-Dreary over here came to be?”

Vader glared at it. “You are nothing,” he said. “A force to be manipulated, forever a servant to those who chose to wield it. I can harness your power, as have millions of beings all through time. You are nothing but a servant of ours, and you shall never be anything more.”

The Force widened its eyes, placing its hands on it’s hips. “Wow,” it said, “dark! I can't expect anything else from you, though, considering the root of your power comes from my moody days.”

Veers held back a laugh, covering it with an odd creaking sound in the back of his throat. Vader glared at him, but ultimately turned to wave a finger in the Force’s face. “You are unwise to-”

“Shush,” it sighed. “Its always the same phrases with you! Me, you’re boring.”

Veers frowned. “Me?”

“I'm the Force, General. There's no point in me saying ‘Force’ to express my annoyance. Imagine saying your own name every time you were troubled? It’s ridiculous, isn't it?”

“Yes, bu-”

“Sh. That was a rhetorical question. Anyways, let's get back on track, shall we? I don’t have a lot of time to deal with your little issues.”

“What, _precisely_ , is ‘on track’?” Vader sighed, finally clipping his lightsaber back on his belt.

“Well… remember how I said you were kriffing up the galaxy?”

“Who could forget that lovely insult?” Veers rolled his eyes. 

The force frowned and flicked him on the nose. “Hush, General. Bad, General.”

“ _Excuse m-”_

“The point is,” it sighed, “ _you two_ are kriffing up the galaxy. Your sons, on the other hand, are doing their Best™ to _not_ do that.”

Vader and Veers shared a glance. Sons? Plural? That couldn’t be right. 

“Yes, that’s right,” the Force said. “Sons. Plural.”

Veers’ eyes snapped over to it, fury brewing deep inside him. “Stay out of my head,” he said in a sharp, clipped tone. 

The Force sighed again. “I’m the _Force,_ General. I’m a part of everything, your head included.”

“That’s not how the Force works,” Vader objected. 

“ _Maybe not,_ but you know how I _do_ work? I show people what they’re missing!”

“Is _that_ what your plan was when showing me the death of my wife and children?”

Veers’ eyebrows shot up through his hairline. A wife _and_ a son? Children _?_ Clearly, he knew nothing about his commander. 

“By now you _must_ have realized that was Palpatine,” it replied. 

_Stars_. He wished he still knew nothing. 

“Again, pushing on,” the Force sighed. “I was thinking about this whole situation of yours. You know, the Skywalker thing?”

Veers frowned. _Skywalker thing?_ It was most likely referring to Lord Vader’s hunt for the Jedi who destroyed the Death Star. Who, of course, Veers suspected to be the child of Anakin Sk—oh. Oh, no. 

Gears began turning in his head and after a moment, he looked at his commander in shock. “Is Skywalker your—”

“Yes,” the Force cut him off. “Old news, Veers. And I’ve been around for billions of trillions of years. When something’s old to _me,_ you should really know it by now. The point is, I’m done with this ‘ _search for Skywalker_ ’ shavit.”

Vader clenched his hand into a fist. “You have no right—“

“So, I’m helping you find your kids.”

Veers raised an eyebrow. Vader cut himself off. “Go on.”

It grinned and snapped a finger. “You’ve got an hour. Have fun.”

With that, the world went black.

* * *

When the two opened their eyes, they were leaning against a durasteel wall in what looked to be a cafeteria. The room was practically barren, only a few tables occupied. 

Vader glanced around, hoping to see his son, but was met with disappointment. Veers did the same. 

“What is this?” Veers wondered aloud. 

Vader was silent for a moment, seemingly communicating with a voice in his head. “The Rebellion’s secondary Mess Hall.”

Veers raised an eyebrow, glancing at the garbage left on a table. “A suitable name.”

Vader’s vocoder let out a crackle that Veers realized was meant to be a laugh. “It would seem,” Vader said as a rebel walked past them, “that they cannot see us.”

The General walked over to another rebel and waved a hand in front of his face. The rebel sniffed, but otherwise had no reaction. “Evidently not.”

Their attention was pulled away from this discovery when a group of rebels, dead on their feet with exhaustion, trudged into the cafeteria. Most of them were human, but among them was a Twi’lek, a Mirialan, a Zabrak, and a Rattataki. 

“That’s a diverse group,” Veers observed. Vader, of course, noticed something else. 

“Skywalker is with them.”

Veers squinted. After a moment, his breath was temporarily taken away from him. _So was Zev._

The cafeteria hushed as they made their way across the room, eventually settling in a corner in the back. Zev and Luke stayed standing. 

“Get something to eat and get to bed, guys,” Luke reminded them. “That mission was exhausting.”

“Yes, Dad,” replied the Mirialan as he dropped his head on the table. 

Vader frowned. “The disrespe—”

He was cut off by a cheerful laugh from Luke. “Isn’t Zev ‘Dad’?”

“No,” replied the Rattataki, her eyes screaming mischief. “Zev is Daddy—”

“Nope,” Zev clapped a hand over her mouth. “As your commanding officer, I’m ordering you to please never say that again.”

She quirked her eyebrows at the Mirialan, who grinned and said, “What? That you’re Da—”

“—and we’re leaving,” Luke interrupted him with a grin. “Sleep well, guys.”

“You got it, Luke,” said one of the Humans with a lazy salute. 

Zev clapped him on the shoulder. “Keep my guys in line, would you Wedge?”

Wedge snorted. “As if anyone could.”

The group chimed in at that, and Zev and Luke shared a look and turned back towards the exit. Without a second thought, Veers and Vader followed after them. 

* * *

“So,” Luke sighed, “are we going to talk about it?”

Zev sighed. “I’d really rather not.”

Veers and Vader shared a suspicious glance, each subconsciously leaning towards their own son.

The two were in what Vader assumed had to be Luke’s quarters, Luke lounging on the bed while Zev sag perched in a chair across from him. 

“I wonder what Skywalker did?” Veers hummed to himself. 

Vader’s eyes snapped to the General. “You assume _my son_ did something.”

“Not at all, Lord Vader,” he rushed to correct himself. _My son._ That would never _not_ be weird to hear. “I was simply saying that… a Jedi from the Outer Rim is more likely to make a small mistake than a… Core world boy like Zev.” 

“Truly? Well, from my experience, those from the Core have no clue how to handle any situation that is even moderately out of their comfort zone.”

“Really? Well, in my opinion, it’s people from the _Outer Rim_ that—”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Luke sighed. Veers and Vader’s eyes snapped towards him. 

“Can he… hear us?” Veers asked. 

“It’s not that big of a deal? Really?” Zev snorted. 

“I suppose not,” Vader replied. “It seems your son is overreacting.”

Veers kept his face calm, but vivaciously replied, “It seems _your_ son is the one who messed up!”

Before they could continue, Luke said, “Zev, it was just a joke.”

“An awful joke,” Zev replied. 

“That made you laugh!”

“Yes, at the time. But dad jokes, Luke? Really?”

“Double dad jokes. If you wanna get technical.”

Zev sighed. “I just… you reach a point in a relationship where you have to put your foot down and say ‘Enough is enough’.”

Veers’ eyebrow quirked up at the mention of a ‘relationship,’ but Skywalker quickly distracted him. 

“Oh, Force,” the Jedi groaned. 

“Okay, you know what? Repeat it back to me and tell me your little joke isn’t awful.”

“No, I’m not gonna—”

“Do it!”

Luke sighed. Resigned, he said, “Why didn’t the AT-AT walk straight?”

Veers’ eyes widened. This should be good.

“I don’t know, why?”

“Because the General Veers.”

The phrase startled a chuckle out of the General. Vader’s vocoder made another crackling sound the General interpreted as a laugh. 

Zev coughed, and cleared his throat, obviously holding back a laugh. Skywalker, who looked positively dismayed, glared at him. “Fine,” the Jedi sighed. “It’s not funny.”

“Oh, you have to say the next part, too.”

“But—”

“Please, Skywalker, did you truly think I’d let you off the hook?”

“I _truly think_ I hate it when you call me Skywalker.” Zev grinned again, and Luke sighed. “Fine. I said, ‘It’s a double dad joke. Get it? Because it’s a dad joke... about your dad.’”

“Yes,” Zev said as seriously as possible. “And tell me, Luke, _did you think this was funny?_ ”

“No,” said Veers, at the same time that Luke said, “Yes.” 

“But Zev,” Luke sighed, hopping off the bed and leaning into the younger Veers’ personal space. “The question here isn’t if _I_ thought it was funny. The question is… _did you?_ ”

Zev blinked, perilously close to Luke. “Uhm. Moving on.”

“You totally did!” 

“It was an _awful_ joke, Luke.”

“An awful joke that you _enjoyed_.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Not at all,” Veers deadpanned. 

“Incorrect, General,” replied Vader.

Veers went to object, but Zev quickly cut him off. “Luke,” he sighed, pulling the boy into his lap, “my darling fiancé. Why are we still talking about this?”

“Yes,” Vader sighed as the couple’s conversation droned on, “why _are_ you st—ah. Fiancé?”

“Fiancé,” Veers said in a strangled tone. “Hm. What?”

“Luke!” Vader yelled. “Young one, answer me. It’s time to have a serious talk about your life choices.”

“ _His_ life choices? All due respect, my lord, my son is marrying a Jedi!”

“Yes, General, and my son is marrying yours. You would be wise to hold back your loud opinions. Now quiet, General. My son and I have much to discuss.”

“As far as I can tell, they still can’t hear us. How do you expect to contact him?”

Suddenly, Skywalker swore and fell off of Zev’s lap. “Ow!” he exclaimed. 

“Ah,” said Veers. “Like that.”

“You alright?” Zev helped Skywalker to his feet. 

“I’m fine,” he replied. “He just startled me.”

“Ah. How’s he doing?”

“I… don’t know?”

“Well ask! You always bug me about not having a good relationship with my father, you could at least try to fix yours.”

“You _what?”_ Veers exclaimed, trying to get up in Skywalker’s face. 

“He _is_ trying to help you, General, it would be wise not to attack him for it,” Vader broke his concentration to say. 

“Yes, well, your son is the one sticking his nose in other people's business.”

“ _Watch your mouth,_ General. Your son is the one who manipulated my son into a relationship—”

“ _Your_ son is the one who can control minds, if anyone’s being manipulated, it’s not him.”

“The only reason I’m not killing you where you stand is because my son seems attached to yours.”

“Believe me, my lord, the same goes for you.”

“Blocked,” Luke sighed in relief. Vader growled. 

“You should not keep your own Father away,” he said, trying to ignore the little voice inside his head that whispered, _Maybe he should._

Veers, who has been prickly from the start, seemed to loosen up. He gave Vader a nod. For once in his… Sithly career, Vader felt understood. 

It was weird. 

“The two of you should really have a conversation about boundaries,” Zev prompted. 

Luke snorted. “Yeah, that would go over well.”

Veers raised a brow. “Ironic, considering our current situation.”

“Very,” Vader replied guiltily. “I doubt he would appreciate this.”

“ _They_ wouldn’t appreciate this.”

“—ur forgiveness boundary,” Zev had been saying. 

Luke whined. “Not the forgiveness boundary! I’ve heard this speech a million times.”

“Yes, the forgiveness boundary! In certain situations—”

“No.”

“—especially concerning removed appendages—”

“ _Zev.”_

“—forgiveness isn’t always the best thing to do. Build a forgiveness boundary! You have to reach a point where you say ‘no more’.”

Vader crosses his arms over his chest, shrinking in on himself. _Forgiveness boundary._ Ridiculous. 

Veers glanced over to him in sympathy. “Well,” he said gruffly, “you're not the only one who’s been forgiveness boundary-d.”

Vader looked at the General, shocked. It was rare for Iron Max to show a soft side. 

Regardless of the General's support, Vader wasn’t feeling too optimistic about whatever Luke would say next. The Jedi was frowning at a spec of dirt under his fingernail, thinking over Zev’s comment. 

“I know that at a certain point, enough is enough,” Luke finally said. “But I haven’t gotten there yet. He cared about me. I know he does, just like I know your father cares about you.”

“Luke, _please_ don’t bring him into this.”

“I already am,” Veers murmured, wishing for once his son could see him. 

“Besides,” Luke sighed, “forgiveness boundaries for family relationships and romantic relationships are _very_ different things. It’s not like I’m kriffing Vad—no. No, forget I said that. Force, I hate that sentence.”

Vader made an uncomfortable noise and held his stomach. He never got sick anymore, but this just might do it. Veers winced. Well. Luke had, at least, cut himself off. It’s not like it could get worse… 

“Nope!” Zev cheered. “As disgusting as it is, you’ve said it, it makes you uncomfortable, and we’re going with it!”

“Oh _F—”_

“And, if you want to get technical, Vader would be kriffing you, since you’re a bottom.”

… it got worse. 

Vader groaned. “Your child is—”

“In my defense, I didn’t make him like that,” Veers sighed, holding his head. At least it wasn’t him. 

“You want to get _technical_?” Luke gaped. “Fine. You brought my father into this, now we’re talking about yours.”

_Kriff. It was him._

“So, d’you think General Maximilian Veers ever did the dirty in an AT-AT?”

“Luke, I will literally rip out your vocal chords if you don’t stop talking.”

“Who do you think had more sex; you, or your father?”

“In my defense,” Vader said, thoroughly shaken, “I didn’t make him like that.”

Veers groaned, burying his head in his hands. Finally, Zev made a retching noise and shook his head. 

“Nope,” he said, “can’t do it. Leaving.”

“Leaving? What you’re just gonna leave the planet because I mentioned your father _canoodling—”_

“Arg! Yes, if that will stop you, you evil, evil Jedi!”

Suddenly, the room around them began to fade. “What’s happening?” Veers straightened up. 

“The Force said we had an hour,” Vader realized. 

“We don’t know where to find them,” he realized. “ _Stars_.”

“I know,” Vader said, looking back at Luke. “Our time isn’t up yet.”

Thankfully, just before the room faded entirely, Luke laughed. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to leave Dantooine to get me to stop.”

And with that, Veers and Vader were deposited back on the SSD _Executor._

“Dantooine,” Veers gasped. 

“Come along, General.”

* * *

  
  


“Admiral,” Vader barked as he and the General burst onto the bridge. “Set course for Dantooine. Immediately.”

He and Veers shared a triumphant look and Piett sighed. Nothing good happened when those two teamed up. 

“My lord,” he said hesitantly, “the Emperor ordered us to oversee constr—”

“Now, Admiral,” said Veers, “that’s unimportant.”

“Ah,” sighed Piett, never one to overly question orders, “I see.”

He gave an order to the captain, who passed it onto the navigators. Veers nodded to Lord Vader and grabbed Piett by the cuff of his uniform. “Come now, Firmus.”

“I have a shift, Max!”

“I will take the bridge,” Vader dismissed Piett’s worries.

“And I,” Veers said, “need a drink.”

* * *

“ _Skywalker_ ,” Piett gaped. 

“Yes,” Veers nodded. 

“And Zev?”

“Apparently.”

“Well. We’ve seen stranger things.”

“Yes… have we?”

“The princess and the smuggler?”

“Well… we’ve seen stranger things.”

“Cheers to that.”

* * *

“Run!” Zev hollered. 

“I’m working on it,” Luke replied, out of breath. “But just so you know, you’ve gotten me so focused on staying away from Vader’s Force presence, we might run into…”

Of course, General Veers and a platoon of troops stepped into their line of sight. 

“... worse.”

“Dad!” Zev exclaimed awkwardly. “Hey. Long time no see?”

The General, as stoic as ever, gazed at Zev with fatherly love hidden behind an iron mask. “It would be in your best interests to come quietly.”

“Still living the Imperial life then, huh? That must be fun.”

“Zev, there’s no time for games.”

“Uh-huh. How’s Ellie?”

“Come. Quietly.”

Luke glanced at the blaster the General held in his hands, set to stun. “Or,” he said, “we could _not_ do that.”

“That would be exceedingly unwise,” Vader said as he stepped up behind the two. Zev jumped in shock and Luke winced. 

“Family reunion,” Zev muttered. Luke snorted. “Should we even try?”

Luke shrugged. “I don’t see why n—”

Suddenly, the ground below them rocked and shook. Luke grabbed onto the wall of the tunnel for support as dirt and rocks rained down on them. “That,” Zev shouted over the roar of the earth, “was not cool!”

“It wasn’t me,” Luke shouted. “I don't know how to make earthquakes.”

“The ground your little rebellion dug into is unstable,” Veers Sr. called out. “I told you there wasn’t much time!”

“What?” Zev exclaimed. “No. We’re smarter than that. Aren’t we?” Luke shrugged, and was promptly thrown off balance by the shaking ground. 

“We must flee if we hope to survive,” Vader boomed. Luke shivered. He wasn’t sure what was scarier, that voice or the collapsing tunnel. 

Still, though, Vader led Luke, the Veerses, and the troops out of the tunnel, using the force to hold it up as well as he could. Veers stayed in the back, helping his squad as best he could. 

In the end, it wasn’t enough. 

The group finally reached sunlight, and the troops crawled out of the tunnel one by one. General Veers didn’t follow. 

Zev frowned. “Where is he? Where’s the General?”

The troops looked behind them, shocked to see that he was gone. “He was right behind us,” one of them told Vader. “He helped Tim through a tough spot—his leg’s been acting up—and he was right behind us.”

The ground shifted again, and Zev surged forward. Luke grabbed him by the sleeve of his jacket, holding him back. “Zev, don't!”

“He’s trapped in there!” Zev cried. 

“And you will be too! I’ll go, instead. I can hold up the rocks with the Force, if he’s really trapped you won’t be able to help! You’ll both die down there, and that’s not what he would’ve wanted.”

“I don’t give a kriff about what he wants!”

“Zev, you _can’t._ Your sister can’t lose you both.”

“She won’t lose either of us,” he snapped back. He turned back to the cave, only to see a black helmet disappearing inside. “Luke… was that?”

Luke frowned, squinting at the entrance to the tunnel. “No. No!”

He ran towards the cave, and was immediately stopped by the same stormtrooper that had just spoken to Vader. “Sorry, kiddo,” he said. “Direct orders from Lord Vader. No Jedi permitted.”

Luke glanced at the tunnel and shook his head. “I have to help him.”

“Hey,” said another stormtrooper, “from what I’ve seen, Lord Vader is perfectly capable of handling himself.”

The Jedi was frowning, but the troopers pushed on. “I’m Foggy,” shrugged the first one. “This is Tim. We’re pretty used to the whole Jedi-Force deal.”

“Yeah?” Zev asked, as he stood behind Luke and stared at the cave. “How so?”

“Well, we served under Anakin Skywalker in the Clone Wars,” Tim said nonchalantly. 

Needless to say, that got the duo’s attention. “Really?” Luke asked. 

“Sure did,” Foggy shrugged. “Lord Vader reminds me of him a lot, actually. Reckless, check.”

“Selfless, check,” Tim agreed.

“Complete disregard for the rules,” they said in unison, “check.”

Luke laughed. “Huh.”

“Yeah,” Tim grinned. “The General is pretty good at getting out of sticky situations, too. Those stories are more Kevin’s area, though.”

“Why is that?”

“Half the time,” Foggy sighed, “I think they’re complete and utter bullshit.”

“Kevin?” Zev asked. “Or the stories?”

“Yes.”

Another stormtrooper stepped over, rubbing his neck. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “I heard my name?”

“Kevin, I presume?” Zev asked, still pausing to glance at the cave entrance. 

“That’s me!” he replied. 

“We heard you have some good General Veers stories,” Luke said hesitantly. He wasn’t sure where he stood with the members of his father’s Death Squadron. 

“Oh, yeah,” Kevin shrugged, easing Luke’s worry. “Do you wanna hear the embarrassing ones, or the _really_ embarrassing ones?”

“Kevin,” Zev grinned sadly, “I think you and I will get along just fine.”

* * *

Seven hours later, Luke, Vader, Zev, and Piett were all outside the Operation room of the _Executor_. Luke and Zev were sitting on the floor, hand in hand. Vader was staring out a viewport, fidgeting, while Piett paced behind him. 

Finally, the door swung open to reveal Vader’s tired doctor. Maria Rodkins was dressed in grey-green scrubs and bloody gloves that Zev was trying very hard _not_ to focus on. 

“There’s good news,” she sighed, “and there’s bad news.”

Luke and Zev stood up and Piett slowed to a stop. Vader finally turned away from the viewport. 

“The good news is, we managed to save him. The bad news is, the rock fall broke his ribs, and aggravated his lungs. Going forward, he could very well have some breathing problems.”

Luke glanced at Vader and leaned closer to his father. Zev squeezed his hand. “When will he wake up?” Zev asked. 

“Sometime in the next 7-8 hours. If he isn’t up in a day, we’ll have a problem. Now, it’s been a long day for all of you, and I know very well that you, my dear Admiral, haven’t slept in days,” she chastised the Admiral, who glanced down at his shoes. “So you all should get some rest. You had a good run today. Veers should be just fine.”

After more than a few objections, Piett left, and Vader motioned for Luke to follow him. Zev just gripped his hand tighter. 

“I need to stay,” he insisted. 

Luke glanced up at his fiancé and nodded. “Me, too?”

Zev nodded. “After a while. I need a minute, first.”

Rodkins looked like she was going to object, but ultimately, she let the duo stay the night. Vader has his concerns, but Luke waved him away. “We can talk in the morning,” he said. 

And so, they stayed the night. 

* * *

“Luke,” whispered Vader. “Young one! Wake up.”

Luke grumbled, rubbing his eyes. He was slouched beside the General’s sickbed, sitting beside Zev. “What time’s’it?”

“Midnight,” Vader replied. “Happy birthday, young one.”

Luke frowned. “Birthday? It’s not my birthday.”

“It’s most definitely your birthday.”

“No! Give me a calendar and I’ll pr—oh, wait. It’s Empire’s Day, right?”

“Yes.”

“Happy birthday to m—wait. You _just_ got me last night. Did you… did you capture me _just_ to celebrate my birthday?”

“Well, it was rather well timed…”

“Oh my _Force_.”

“Don’t use your Grandparent’s name in vain, young one.”

“ _What?”_

“Nothing at all. Happy birthday, young one.”

“Thanks. Force, I can’t believe I’m 24.”

“Nor can I.” Again, Vader mourned the many years he had lost with his son. Hopefully, he would begin to make up for it. 

“Zev is turning 26 in… eight weeks, about. Ah, I enjoy only being a year younger than him.”

“That’s not how it works, young one. Your fiancé is still practically two years older than you.”

“Yeah, well he—erm. What? Fiancé? I don’t have a—what’s a—fiancé? Never heard of that, I don’t… I don’t have a fiancé! I don’t even have a boyfriend. Or-or a girlfriend, I guess, because you don’t know that I’m g—err, great, a great person, so. Uh. Nope, no fiancé here. I don’t… what are you… oy.”

“‘Oy’ indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *emerges from gutter* did you like it??  
> Oh gosh my authors notes are getting more and more chaotic  
> Anyways there a lot I wanted to mention but first of all?? “The General and the Sith?” Great name for a children’s book. The kind of thing Luke would read if he grew up wl his father, at least. ANYWAYS, yes, this chapter was kind of chaotic and all over the place. That’s because it’s 2:42 am and I just finished writing it but I got real hyped so now it’s here.  
> Also, for whumptober I’m very much considering writing an entirely imperial based group of tickets surrounding Piett, veers, and Vader. I’m pretty sure I’m going to do it at this point but still... thoughts??
> 
> ANYWAYS VOTING TIME:  
>  **(ORANGE)** Vader is rescued by Luke, who is currently oblivious to his relationship to Vader. Of course, this leads to misunderstandings, a very confused Jedi, and a smug-ass Sith Lord  
>  **(YELLOW)** Luke is a musician (in modern times or in a galaxy far far away? you decide) and Vader learns of his existence through music  
>  **(BLUE)** time travel three shot [first to ANH, then to the clone wars, then somewhere else. not sure where, so pretty please help me pick? I've had a lot of good ideas but I'm still unsure and would love some input!)  
>  **(INDIGO)** there's a peace treaty between the rebellion and the empire after the death of Palpatine. Zev and Vader meet, Piett is Very Tired, and Veers would like a shot of whiskey, please  
>  **(INCARNADINE)** Rebel youtube, basically, which I wanted to do ages ago but completely forgot abouttttt!  
>  **(AQUAMARINE)** Leia is raised by Vader. probably ends up dark. then, she meets this weird-ass farmboy named Luke SKywalker who seems oddly familiar...
> 
> Love you all! Vote, leave kudos, you do you, live your best lives and don’t let anyone stop you!!
> 
> (p.s.: be happy)


	19. Treason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Luke saves Vader from a TIE fighter crash, he doesn't expect to be dragged around a forest for hours with a cyborg-Sith Lord. Still, it's what he gets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooooo my little lovely noodles! (Wow I can't believe I just stooped so low as to call you all noodles. Should I call you 'ramen' next?) This is orange! I wasn't expecting to get an update out so fast, but school starts for me on Monday, so I wanted to get out all the content I could before school/the upcoming Whumptober frenzy. I started and finished this in a very short period of time, and I didn't get a chance to share wl my beta before she... well, I have no idea where she is. SO, I had someone else beta so I could get it out without worrying about a ton of errors! My beta-for-a-day, anemoia, was absolutely sweet and delightful! Thank you my darling!  
> Okay, so, this is like mostly plot and half everyone in the galaxy being bitchy! Here we go

Vader glared at Luke. Luke glared back. “In my defense,” the Jedi grumbled, “I _really_ don’t want to be here.” 

“That is no excuse, young one,” Vader sharply reprimanded the Jedi. 

“Stop calling me that!” At times like this, Luke seriously regretted saving the Sith in the first place. 

Luke and Vader were stranded on Vrogas Vas after taking each other’s ships down. After some hesitation, Luke had dragged Vader out of his wrecked TIE Advanced. This, of course, led to Vader following Luke around the planet for hours on end. 

He was initially stunned by the crash, but once he came to and was certain nothing was malfunctioning, he tracked down the Jedi that had been running from him for years now. 

They both had… thoughts on the other’s life choices. 

“You need to let me go, you piece of bantha poodoo!” Luke exclaimed, tugging on the restraints Vader had placed him in. 

“Escape is no longer an option for you,” the Sith said bitterly. He had just captured Luke, after the Jedi’s fourth escape attempt. Needless to say, he was pissed. 

“Then kill me already!”

“Death is not in your future, Skywalker,” the Sith replied. 

“Pretty sure it’s in everyone’s future,” Luke replied snootily. “Besides, you killed my father. What’s stopping you from killing me?!” 

“I did no such thing!”

“Don’t lie to me! Ben told me the truth. He told me everything you did. How you betrayed and murdered my dad, just like you did to him!”

“Kenobi’s death was too quick,” Vader growled. “He deserves to suffer for the lies he told. For the children he _stole.”_

“The only liar here is y—”

“Hush,” Vader said, clamping a hand over Luke’s mouth. 

Luke glared at him, and mumbled through his hand, “Mntdonetakinoosunofah—”

“Do you not sense the predators around us?” Vader said in a hushed whisper. “If you’re so insistent on death, young one, I'd prefer you not drag me into your escapades.”

Luke frowned. Once Vader’s band came off his mouth, Luke whispered, “Something tells me you’d bring yourself into it regardless.”

Vader shot him an annoyed look, and Luke shrank in on himself. As sure as he was that Vader was planning on killing him, he didn’t _really_ want to die. There might still be a chance for him to escape. So, he stayed quiet. 

Suddenly, Vader ignited his lightsaber. Luke reared away from the man, but Vader quickly took hold of his binders. “I am _not_ targeting you,” the Sith told him in a clipped tone. 

“Then wh—“

Just as Luke spoke, a fur ball of a creature slithered out of the brushes. Luke gulped nervously as the beast bared its talons towards the duo. Vader waved his lightsaber at the creature, but it wouldn't back off. 

Thankfully, in order to fend off the creature, Vader was forced to leave his side. Luke slowly crept backwards, glancing again at Vader. He had just saved the man from a TIE crash. Did he really want to leave the man alone with a deadly creature?

His question was answered when Vader swung his lightsaber high in the air. If Luke didn't run, he wouldn't stand a chance against him. 

And so, the Jedi left. 

\-----------

“Of all the irresponsible,” Vader said, “ridiculous, idiotic things you could’ve done, you chose to drown yourself?”

Luke scowled up at him, looking much like a soaking wet puppy. “Again,” he grumbled, “I really don't want to be here. Besides, drowning is a better fate than whatever it is you're planning for me!”

“Again,” Vader mimicked him, “I'm _not_ planning on harming you, Skywalker.”

“Then what _are_ you planning on? Why did you save me? What are you trying to pull, Vader, cause whatever it is, you won't get away with—oomf.”  
  


Luke blinked, glancing down at the ground below him. In what felt like less than a second, Vader had hefted him over his durasteel shoulder and began trudging on through the wilderness. 

“Hey!” Luke protested, clawing at the Sith’s armorweave cape. “Put me down!”

“You’ve very clearly shown that you cannot be trusted to walk by yourself.”

“I'm not a child!”

“Truly? Then why, young one, have you been acting like one?”

“Don't call me ‘young one’!”

“Clearly, you lacked discipline growing up. If _I_ had been in charge of your upbringing-”  
  


“Why would _you_ be in charge of my ‘upbringing’? You have zero relation to me, other than the fact that you… what was it again? Oh, yeah, _killed my father_.”

“You are far too catty, Skywalker. Especially in regards to matters you know nothing about.”

Without warning, Vader hopped down a five-foot ravine, and Luke let out a shriek, clutching to Vader’s cape for support. If he didn't know better, he'd say he felt a flash of guilt in the force, billowing off of Vader like steam. But that couldn't be right. Maybe if Ben had gotten a chance to train him to do something other than wave a laser sword around, he'd be able to—  
  


“I would not let you fall, young one,” Vader said, and yep, that was definitely guilt. Huh. 

“Why do you care? You’re going to kill me anyways.”  
  


“Again, Skywalker, you will _not_ die by my hand. As recent events have shown, it’s far more likely that you will die at yours!”

“Oh. Torture, then.”

“ _No.”_

“Then what?” Luke finally yelled, twisting about as best he could to face the Sith lord from his place on the man’s shoulder. “What could you possibly want from me?”

“I will explain it all when we get back to the _Executor_.”

“Why can't you explain it now?” Luke winced at the sound of his own voice. . 

Vader's grip on Luke’s legs tightened. “You will understand in time,” he replied ominously. 

Luke snorted. “I've never been very patient.”

“You get that from your father,” Vader said, so quietly Luke was sure he wasn't meant to hear it. 

“My father?” Luke asked, previously banished anger flaring up inside of him. “You don't get to talk about my father! Not when you killed—”  
  


“I did _not_ kill him,” Vader snapped. 

“You're lying.”

“Unlike the Jedi, I have never lied to you.”  
  


“How am I supposed to know that?”

Vader abruptly halted and let Luke slide off his shoulder, roughly dragging the boy by his shoulders to stand in front of him. “Why,” he asked, his teeth grinding together, “would I bother to drag your uncooperative self throughout this inane forest just so I could have the pleasure of killing you? If I wanted you dead, Skywalker, you would be.”

Luke flinched away from the Sith. “Ask yourself!” he bit back. 

Vader stared at him for a moment and shook his head, tossing Luke over his shoulder again. Luke let out an undignified screech and kicked out his legs, but the Sith just rolled his eyes behind the helmet. “You will understand in due time, young one,” Vader told him. “This I can promise you.”

Luke looked down at the quickly moving ground below him, contemplating a reply. Ultimately, he decided not to push his luck. Maybe, just maybe, he could still escape.

\--------

Luke huddled himself up in front of the fire, shivering in his wet clothes. In the coroner of the small cave he had found, Darth Vader was hunched over the broken remnants of an old comlink, tinkering with the pieces. “It won't work, you know,” Luke told him angrily. “Even if it does, my friends will come for me before you fix it.”

Vader stopped his movements for a second, then began again. “Feel free to assume that, young one,” he said, “but your friends will not be coming back. The rebel fleet jumped into lightspeed hours ago. They’ve left you.”  
  


Luke shivered again, tugging at his binders. Vader was right. They weren't coming back. 

“You’re cold,” Vader observed.

Luke rolled his eyes. “ _Clearly_ I'm cold. You were very much aware of this when you built this Force forsaken fire in the first place, so--hey, what are you--”

“Do not object,” snapped the Sith as he heaved Luke towards him, huddling close to the Jedi. “We will conserve body heat if we stay close.”  
  


“ _Body heat_ ? Do you even _have_ a body you _schutta_?!”

“You would be wise to watch your language.”

“And you would be wise to not be an assh-”

Vader clapped a hand over Luke's mouth and wagged a finger in his face. “You are intolerably insolent.”  
  


Against his will, Luke blushed, the tips of his ears turning bright red. He hated being chided by authority figures. “W-whatever!” he said. Suddenly, Vader’s comlink burst to life, scaring him off the Sith’s lap. 

“Sir,” said a tired voice from the comm. “Sir, this is Captain Piett. Come in, my lord.”

Vader dragged Luke back onto his lap, wrapped his cape around the Jedi, and answered, “I'm here, Piett.”

Luke opened his mouth to object, but Vader clapped a hand over his mouth again. Luke scowled and tried to push it away, but the black glove refused to budge. 

“What are your coordinates, my lord?”

Luke kicked his legs around, his shouting muffled through Vader’s hand.

“75.2 degrees N, 69.69 degrees W.”

Finally, Luke ripped Vader’s hand away and shouted, “Let me go, you kriffing son of a Hutt!”

The comm went silent, and then Luke could’ve sworn he heard a sigh from the other side of the line. “So, then,” the voice continued, sounding even more tired, “shall we send a shuttle to escort you back, my lord?”

“Yes, Captain. Immediately.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The comm cut out, and Luke glared at Vader. “I'm not going with you.”

Vader’s grip on Luke tightened. “You have no other choice.”  
  


 **\---FIVE MINUTES EARLIER, ON THE BRIDGE OF THE SSD** **_EXECUTOR---_ **

Piett frowned, and scrolled through the datapad again. He looked down at the workers in the pit, and asked, “Anything?”

“Not yet, sir,” replied an officer. Piett’s frown deepened. 

“If Lord Vader survived the crash, he'd piece together a comlink to contact us. Check to see if there’s any frequencies we haven't scanned yet.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Piett nodded to them, and walked over to Ozzel. “Sir,” he nodded, the title sour in his mouth, “I've gotten all our data workers looking for any sign of technological activity. We should find Lord Vader in moments.”

“Very well,” Ozzel sighed. “Though you might want to lower your expectations. I highly doubt that Sithspawn made it.”

Piett stiffened at the clear disrespect in Ozzel’s tone. _Technically_ , he thought to himself, _Skywalker is the Sithspawn._

The revelation that Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader were connected in more than just their Force abilities had shaken Piett to his core. Then, he thought about it, and it wasn't all that shocking. 

Shared Force abilities—check. Flare for the dramatic—check. Insane military tactics that somehow work—check. Suicidal tendencies when determined to meet a goal—check. Strong and overwhelming urge to give him several heart attacks—double check. All signs point to a strong family connection. Really, he should’ve seen it earlier. And it wasn't like the Sith was being discreet, either. The man was practically screaming, “ _Have you seen my son? He’s about this tall, clearly gay, but we haven't had the talk yet,_ ” to anyone and everyone he encountered on his search for Skywalker. 

Again. It wasn't all that shocking. 

Still, though, what Vader asked him next had been all the more unnerving. 

Piett had gone to Vader’s quarters three weeks earlier, summoned by the Dark Lord of the Sith himself. Most everyone was sure he was going there to die for some small misstep he had made along the way. Ozzel’s insufferable grin still haunted him. 

Instead of death via Force choke, Vader tried to give him death via heart attack. He nearly managed, too, but the shock wore off with the help of years of military training and the fine art of burying your emotions deep inside you. So, when Vader asked him to commit treason, Piett did the only reasonable thing a person in his situation would do. 

I know what you’re thinking—he said no, because treason could get him arrested, executed, and worst of all, demoted. That, unfortunately, is incorrect. 

Since Piett was involved in an ongoing coup with the man, he was less concerned about his own death, and more concerned about the welfare of his ship. As if that didn't _already_ sum up his existence. 

Now that he knew the truth, Piett was more involved in the search for Skwalker than he had ever been before. The sooner they found Skywalker, the sooner the Emperor would be dethroned, and the sooner there would be peace in the galaxy. 

Unfortunately, Skywalker was (both literally and figuratively) a Sithspawn to capture. 

He always managed to evade them, no matter how hard they tried to catch him. Vader’s own agents never managed to lure him in. Thankfully, Piett had seen what he hoped was Skywalker’s X-Wing crash a click away from Vader’s. This could very likely mean that Vader had retrieved Skywalker and was finding a way back to the _Executor_ now. Or, it could mean Skywalker’s dead and their plans had been derailed. 

Either way, he was ready. 

So, instead of starting an even larger fight with Ozzel, he simply nodded and said, “Yes, sir. Still, we’re bound by our duty to try.”

Ozzel scoffed, but nodded, and turned around to rudely address some poor lower-ranking officer. 

Piett sighed, but his thoughts were interrupted when a communications officer called him over to a desk. “We’ve found him, sir,” the officer told him. 

Piett nodded triumphantly. “Very good. Patch me through.” The comm buzzed, bursting out static. “Sir? Sir, this is Captain Piett. Come in, my lord.”

Thankfully, Vader’s voice came through the comm. “I’m here, Captain.”

“What are your coordinates, my lord?”

A muffled screaming sound burst through the comm, along with the sound of boots kicking the ground. Piett’s eyes widened for a moment. He had Skywalker, then. 

He spared a glance towards the rest of the officers on the bridge. They were all looking at each other in fear, glancing from Piett to the comm over and over again. Clearly, they were wondering what poor soul their commander had captured this time. That wouldn't do. Before Piett could reprimand them, Vader said, “75.2 degrees N, 69.69 degrees W.”

Piett opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off when Skywalker screamed, “Let me go, you son of a Hutt!”

The bridge went silent, all the chatter silenced. Piett sighed. Really, Skywalker could tone it down. People would be gossiping about this for months, and Piett had better things to do than quell whatever rumors were sure to pop up.

“So, then, shall we send a shuttle to escort you back, my lord?” Piett held back a smile as he caught sight of Ozzel pouting in the corner. It would be unbecoming of him to outright grin at the man, wouldn’t it? 

“Yes, Captain. Immediately.”

The comm cut off, and Piett turned to address the bridge. “Send a shuttle, men,” Ozzel interrupted him. “Lord knows there’ll be hell to pay if we don’t.”

Several bridge officers glared at him, but thankfully one nodded and called for a shuttle. Piett glanced out the viewport. He wouldn’t relax until Skywalker was at ease on the ship.

_So_ , he thought to himself, _never._

**________**

  
  


“Max,” Piett hissed, hurrying over to the General. “Max!”

“Firmus, what the hells is going on?” the General demanded. “People are saying we’ve caught Skywalker.”

“We have,” Firmus grabbed Veers by the arm and pulled him down the corridor, towards the hangar entrance. “Lord Vader is bringing him in now.”

“Does this mean…”

“I believe so,” Piett nodded. He hadn't been able to keep the truth from Veers. Not before the man figured things out on his own, at least. So, the General was brought into Vader and Piett’s little plot. Still, though… 

“Why am I here?’ Veers ased. “Surely, Lord Vader wouldn't wish to introduce Skywalker to too many of us at once.”

“No,” Piett sighed, “I was meant to go retrieve them, but Ozzel made his way to the hangar before me. So, now you have to suffer as well.”

“Surely Vader doesn't want me there. You are his most trusted advisor, after all.”

Piett wrinkled his nose. He didn't want to unpack the emotional baggage that brought him. “I'm not sure. Please, Veers, we’ve already committed treason, it's not like we have anything to lose.”

“That’s not a great mentality for you to have adopted. Regardless, can't you suffer alone?”  
  


“What? No. we both know I don't get paid enough for this, Veers. It’s your turn to deal with our Commander’s family drama.”  
  


“Please, Piett, I have enough of my own!”

“Yes, well, this will be a welcome break, won’t it? Surely Zev and Skywalker won’t be connected at all.”

Veers frowned. “But-”  
  


Before he could finish his protest, the hangar doors flew open. Piett and Veers stepped inside, standing to their full heights and making their way over to the landing shuttle. Ozzel was waiting just in front of them, and they slowed to a stop beside him. 

The ramps went down, and Skywalker and Vader trudged down the slope together. Then, of course, things got interesting.

_------

Luke pulled at the binders again, frowning at Vader. “I'll die before I tell you anything,” he said as their shuttle touched down on the deck of the Executor. 

Vader grabbed Luke’s arm tightly. “Death is not an option for you.”

With that, he forced the Jedi down the docking ramp of the shuttle, a scowl marring his features. 

At the foot of the shuttle’s ramp stood three Imperial’s; an Admiral, a General, and a Captain.

“My lord!” the Admiral greeted the Sith. “Finally, we’ve captured the terrorist that’s been tormenting this galaxy for years now. This is a glorious day for the Empi-”  
  


“Admiral Ozzel,” Vader snapped. “I believe I made it clear that you were to stay on the bridge.”

Skywalker’s eyes widened. He glanced between the two with intrigue. The _tea_. 

“Yes,” Ozzel sighed, “well, Captain Piett was making his way to see you and I didn't believe he would adequately welcome you back. Outer Rim folk such as himself aren't completely updated on the customs of gracious living.”

Luke blinked. Veers looked as if he was about to say something, but Piett pushed him back. Vader clenched his fists, walked forward and opened his mouth to address the Admiral, when Luke cut him off.  
  


“Hey,” he grinned. “There’s no need to be rude.”

The trio’s eyes snapped to him; Piett and Vader full of surprise, while Ozzel scowled at him with pure hatred. “I'm sorry, rebel?”

“There's no need to be rude,” he repeated. “I grew up on Tatooine, and as an ‘Outer Rim folk’ that isn't ‘completely updated on the customs of gracious living’, I'd like to point out that I have better manners than you.”  
  


“Oh, manners?” Ozzel spat. “You’re not one to speak about _manners_ , rebel scum.”

Vader glared at the Admiral. “What was that, Admiral?”

“Well, my lord,” he said, acting like an offended peacock, “the Jedi is in no place to lecture any of _us_. And unwise to do so, considering it’s surefire death down the line.”

Vader clenched his fist together. “If you are not careful, Admiral Ozzel, your death will come far before his.”

Luke’s eyes darted between the duo, biting his lip. He glanced over to the Captain, who was looking as if he was about to go into battle. This wouldn't end well. 

“No one has to die,” Luke said, trying to reason with them. The Admiral was rude, sure, and the very picture of what Imperial’s were _not_ supposed to be, but… death seemed too extreme. 

Vader sent him a dry look. _‘Truly, young one?’_ Vader’s voice boomed in his mind. _‘You would defend a man who belittled you? Not only that, but you would do so in a situation you believe will end with your death.’_

Luke jumped, shocked. He glared at Vader, and said aloud, “Stay _out_ of my head. Besides, like you said, I'm probably going to die, so what do I have to lose?”

The captain looked as if he was holding back a sigh. “I'm afraid that’s not the best mentality to have, Commander Skywalker.”

Luke blinked at him. “Huh?”

The Captain and the General glanced at Vader, who simply nodded. “Come along,” said the Captain. “I'll show you to your rooms. Lord Vader and the Admiral may need some time alone.”

\--------

“What’s going on?” Luke asked the Captain. The Imperial smiled wryly at him, glancing to the empty spot at his side. The General had run ahead to warn security that they’d be using Luke’s quarters, while Piett and Luke walked the long way around the ship. 

“I'm not sure how much I’m permitted to tell you,” Piett replied, hands clasped behind his back as they strolled down the hall. 

“The both of you are acting like there’s some big, giant, galaxy wide, family secret of a conspiracy going on.”

“Both?”

“You and Vader,” he spat out the Sith’s name violently. “I mean, my ‘rooms’? We both know you’re taking me to a holding cell. I've still got binders on, so I know I'm a prisoner. And this whole ‘not dying’ thing we’ve got going? That won't last long!”

“Yes, from what I've seen, your family and the ‘not dying thing’, as you put it, don't exactly have a stable relationship,” the Captain let out a long suffering sigh. 

“My family?” Luke exclaimed. “Vader _killed_ my family.”

The captain nearly slowed to a stop. “Oh. So that’s what you’ve been told.”

“It’s the _truth_.” 

“Of course it is,” he briskly walked on. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself. Unspeakably rude of me, I apologize. My name is Firmus Piett, Captain of the _Executor_.”

Luke was still perturbed by the Captain's remarks towards his father’s fate, but he frowned and walked beside theman. “I’m Luke,” he said. “Luke Skywalker. I think you know that, though.”

“I’m afraid I do. You’ve made quite the impression on the galaxy.”

“I'm not sure that’s a good thing,” Luke flexed his wrists in the binders.

Piett was silent as the duo stopped in front of a steel door on the right side of the corridor. Piett typed in a keycode and stepped aside to let Luke in first. “After you,” he said. 

The General was already inside, waiting for them.He spared SKywalke a cursory nod and went to stand beside Piett. “Commander Skywalker,” he nodded. “General Maximilian Veers, Imperial Army.”  
  


“Veers?” Luke asked, taking a step away from the man. 

“Yes?”  
  


“I… it’s nothing.”

Luke stepped into the room, glancing around as the door slid shut behind him. Piett reached for the Jedi’s binder’s and unlocked them, letting Luke shake out his wrists. “Where am I?” asked Luke. 

“Your quarters,” the Captain responded simply. “Feel free to explore the rooms. There’s a closet somewhere in here. You should get a change of clothes before you catch a cold.”

“No, this doesn't make any sense. Why do I have a room here?”

“Rooms. More than one.”

“That’s… disturbing in more ways than one. I'm done being confused, what’s going on?”

Piett cleared his throat. “Lord Vader feels obligated to care for you.”

“Why? Who does he think he is, my father?”

“Well…” Veers sighed. 

“Incase I'm mistaken, he has no claim to that title. Not when he murdered the only man that could claim it.”

Piett frowned. The General glanced at his friend, then back to Luke. “I'm sorry,” Veers said, “but what do you think happened to your father?”

“Vader killed him!” Luke replied angrily. 

“Who the hells told you that?”

“Ben. Who told you otherwise?”

Veers opened his mouth to respond, but Piett grabbed him by the arm. “If you’ll give us a moment,” Piett quickly said to Luke, dragging Veers into the hall. The door slid shut behind them, leaving the Jedi to his thoughts. 

“Should we leave him alone in there?” Veers wondered aloud, trying to get back inside the room.

“Leave it, Max.”

“We have to tell him,” Veers said. “If someone told Ze--erm. It’s not right.”

“I know, but Lord Vader wishes to tell him himself,” he reminded the General. 

Veers glanced at the door again, and hissed, “But Firmus, he-”

“I know. It’s messed up, and whoever lied to Skywalker is a bastard, but Lord Vader deserves to be the one to tell him.”

Veers turned away from Piett, glaring at the door. “It isn't right.”

“I know. But this is a moral quandary that I haven't had enough caff to comprehend.”

“If someone told Zev and Ellie that I murdered their father, I would be livid.”

“I can't even imagine what that would feel like, Max, but please, stay reasonable! If you barge in there with your Truth-Guns a blaze, Lord Vader will kill you.”

“Oh, like he killed Skywalker’s father?” Veers snidely asked. “He deserves to know.”

“I agree. But Vader deserves to tell him himself.”

Veers was silent for a moment, staring at the door. Finally, he said, “Ellie and Zev would be livid if something like this happened to us.”

Piett sighed. “On the bright side, Lord Vader only has one kid,” _oh, how wrong they are,_ “and Skywalker’s a Jedi.”

“Wannabe Jedi.”

“The point is, he should take the news easier.”

“Or worse. Isn’t Vader a Sith?” 

Piett winced. “I… forgot about that.”

“You’ve been forgetting about a lot lately. Would that have something to do with lack of sleep?”

“Oh, leave it Max.”

“I’m just saying, the soon to be Admiral of Death Squadron—“

“ _Please_ don’t call me that!”

“—should be a healthy person. You can’t be healthy if you don’t sleep, Firmus.”

“You’re one to talk, Max.”

The duo glared at each other, eventually turning away with a sigh. “Should we go back in?” Veers asked. “Hopefully, Skywalker hasn’t escaped by now.”

Piet winced. He forgot about Skywalker. Kriff you, Max, it wasn’t sleep loss! “Well, I doubt it. He would’ve had to go past us. It’s not like there were any v… ah. The vents.”

Max groaned. “Shavit.”

They burst into the room, and sure enough, Skywalker was missing, the vent cover misplaced. 

“Shavit, shavit,shavit!” Veers exclaimed. 

“Lady!” Piett yelled. “Where is he?”

The halls were silent for a moment, until suddenly there was a yelp from the ceiling above them. “It shocked me!” 

Piett grinned. “Thank you, my lady.”

The lights flashed bright yellow, and faded back to their normal fluorescent white. Veers I clipped his blaster from his belt and bit his lip. “Here’s to hoping this goes well,” he muttered. Then, he shot the ceiling around where they had last heard Skywalker. 

Thankfully, this led to a Jedi-sized hole in the roof, and a blonde haired brat tumbling out of the vent. “Ow!”

Piett gaped at the exposed pipes and wires. “You shot my ship!”

Veers pulled Skywalker to his feet. “You alright?”

“My _ship!_ ”

“I’d be better if you hadn’t shot me out of the ceiling!” Skywalker bit back. 

“What did my Lady ever do to you, Max?”

“If you want to get technical,” Veers smiles, a shit eating grin overcoming his face, “it’s Admiral _Ozzel’s_ ship.”

Piett’s face went stony cold, glaring at the General. “If you want to get technical,” he hissed, “it’s _my_ ship that can kill you in a second.”

“You’re talking about her like she’s sentient,” Luke observed. 

Suddenly, the lights flashed orange. Piett sighed. The Lady was feeling mischievous, then. 

“ _They’re talking about me like I’m sentient,”_ said a robotic voice from the speakers, “ _because I am.”_

Luke jumped with a yelp, hopping into Veers’ arms and wrapping his arms around the General’s neck. Veers stumbled backwards, cap falling off his head and landing on Luke’s. 

“Skywalker!” Veers exclaimed. “There’s no need to be so jumpy. It’s only a sentient ship.”

“Yes,” Luke hissed, “ _only_ a sentient ship. Because that’s not weird at all!”

“I suppose I’m used to it by now.”

“Yes,” Piett sighed, “nothing fazes me anymore.”

“Sucks to be you, then,” Luke snapped, Veers still holding him bridal style. “I wonder if anyone’s been having a worse day than you… oh, wait. My ship crashed, I lost my droid, I’ve been captured, and I’m on a sentient ship with no chance of escape. _I wonder if anyone’s been having a worse day than you._ ”

“You’re rude, for a Jedi,” Veers said. 

“And perfectly reasonable for a rebel,” Piett snickered. 

Luke glared at them. “Hey! I'm just trying to live my life here. It’s not my fault your Commander is obsessed with me!”

Of course, Vader chose that moment to enter the room.

“Indeed,” he said, and promptly did a double take when met with the sight of Luke in Veers’ arms, wearing the General’s hat, next to the partly collapsed ceiling of the _Executor_ . “What exactly transpired while I was… occupied?”  
  


“Occupied with _murder_ ,” Luke snapped. 

Piett flinched, sharing a look with Veers. Ozzel’s death was inevitable, but still shocking. “Well, you see, my lord-”

“He did it,” LUke sighed, pointing to the General. “You say you’re not planning on killing me, but it doesn't exactly calm me down when your generals shoot me out of the ceiling.”

“You did _what_?” vader exclaimed, turning on Veers. 

“You see, my lord,” Veers said nervously, “Skywalke--”

“I don't care what he did, you shot him out of the _cei-_ wait. Young one, why in the galaxy were you in the ceiling? Were you trying to get yourself killed?”  
  


“I was trying to get off this Force Forsaken ship!”

“Hey!” Piett exclaimed defensively. 

“It's not like I have any reason to stay!” Luke continued. “I'm trapped here, with the asshole that’s been hunting me for years, a couple of wackadoodle Imperials, one of which is my boyfriend’s estranged father, on an awful monster of a ship that’s determined to make my life difficult!”

“Boyfriend’s father?” Vader exclaimed. “Boyfriend?!”

Veers frowned for a moment, and then he just sighed, rubbing his brow angrily. “Dammit, Zev.”

“Is no one else upset that he insulted the Lady?” Piett asked. 

“As beloved as the Lady is, Captain, I'm afraid she's not currently my top priority,” Vader growled. Piett looked to Veers. 

“Zev did a no-no,” was all he managed to croak out. Piett sighed. Finally, he turned to Skywalker, who clearly hadn't meant to drop the boyfriend-bit. 

The Jedi glared at the walls of the ship, as if he was blaming it for his misdoings. “Devil ship,” he whispered. 

“Hey!” Piett said again. He was ignored. 

“Let me see if I understand you, Skywalker,” Vader grumbled. “You're gay.”

Luke glanced down at himself, and raised a brow. “Clearly.”

“You’ve somehow gotten yourself into a relationship with my idiot of a son,” Veers continued. 

“He’s not an idiot! Well. Not that much of an idiot.”

“How dare you insult him?”  
  


“But you just-”

“Quiet,” Vader snapped. “You still haven't stopped to explain why the ceiling looks like it was run through by a panicking bantha.”

“Oh,” Luke winced. “It’s his fault.”

Veers, still holding Skywalker, glared down at the Jedi. “It was _not_ my fault! Had you not gone into the ceiling in the first place--”  
  


“I wouldn't have if you didn't kidnap me.”

“Oh, kidnapping a Jedi criminal, how awful of me.”

“Watch your tongue, General,” Vader growled. 

“You’re not allowed to murder my boyfriend’s dad,” Luke sighed. “I'd get in trouble.”

“Oh, well we wouldn't want that, would we?” Veers asked. “Please, I doubt Zev would care. He’s never been particularly fond of me.”

“You don't know that. Just because you’re on different sides of the war doesn't mean you can't love each other.”  
  


Vader froze. “Ah,” he said, “you think that, do you?”

“Of _course_. You messed up, General, but that doesn't mean Zev doesn't love you.”

“I'm fairly certain it does, Skywalker. There’s no coming back from all that he and I have forced each other through.”

“No?” Luke asked. “”I think there is. If you don't want to try, that’s on you. But I know Zev. He doesn't hate you, and he doesn't want you dead. Maybe, if you took five seconds to comm him, you'd realize that.”

“I can't comm him, he--”

Just as Veers said it, his comlink beeped loudly. Luke grinned, “There it is.”  
  


Cautiously, Veers put Skywalker down. Luke glanced at the comlink, which Veers promptly answered. 

“Hello?” he asked. 

A sigh came from the other line. “Did you _have_ to kidnap my boyfriend?”

**\--Five Minutes Later--**

“Why didn’t he tell me?” Luke asked Vader. “Ben. He could’ve told me, and he didn't.”

“Kenobi was a liar and a thief,” Vader said. “He only ever took from this galaxy.”

“That’s not true. This whole thing can't be true!”

“It is. Search your feelings, you know it to be true.”

It was silent for a moment. Veers could hear Zev breathing over the comm. Piett spared him a nervous glance. They had committed treason for this. 

Luke shook his head. “N… no. No!”

“Luke, I-”

“No! How can I trust you? You’re an evil, cyborg, Sith Lord, who would probably cut off my hand given the chance!”

“I would _not_ ,” Vader replied. “I’ve only ever told you the truth, young one. I had hoped that was worth something to you.”

“It is,” Luke said weakly. He cleared his throat. “It is. So… where do we go from here?”

“Well,” Zev said over the comm, “I might have an idea.”

“I'm dreading whatever you’re going to say next,” Veers deadpanned. 

“I’m intrigued. Zev,” Luke nodded, “go on.”

“How do you guys feel about treason?”

Piett sighed. Not this again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! **Also, for those of you who are into the Zev/Luke content, there's a new fic up by that_local_criptid, and it's really good! It's a/b/o, but not in a creepy way! Grandparents Vader and Veers makes me happy!** Anyways, that story really cheered me up earlier today!  
> Ahh, back to my own notes! Idk what the bitchy-meter on this fic is, but Piett is pretty sassy in that one part! He's a bit more fearless in this than how I normally characterize him, but I figured he should have his moment(s), and I let Prissy Piett loose. I HOPE YOU LIKED IT! It's fun to write sassy Piett. The Admiral himself is pretty reserved when it comes to Vader, unless they've had time to build up an epic bromance, so he normally only comes out when Piett is drunk or incredibly sleep deprived (or during any and every convo he has wl veers). I LOVE PISSY PIETT
> 
> Ahh, voting! my old friend. (oh, btw, for any americans that can vote, please register! your opinions and thoughts are valid unless they're directed towards hurting other ppl :D)  
>  **(YELLOW)** Luke is a musician (in modern times or in a galaxy far far away? you decide) and Vader learns of his existence through music  
>  **(BLUE)** time travel three shot [first to ANH, then to the clone wars, then somewhere else. not sure where, so pretty please help me pick? I've had a lot of good ideas but I'm still unsure and would love some input!)  
>  **(INDIGO)** there's a peace treaty between the rebellion and the empire after the death of Palpatine. Zev and Vader meet, Piett is Very Tired, and Veers would like a shot of whiskey, please  
>  **(INCARNADINE)** Rebel youtube, basically, which I wanted to do ages ago but completely forgot abouttttt!  
>  **(AQUAMARINE)** Leia is raised by Vader. probably ends up dark. then, she meets this weird-ass farmboy named Luke SKywalker who seems oddly familiar...
> 
> ahhh! oh, btw, Im from a very small town, and the amount of people that have read this is wayyyy larger than my town's population. hence, my small mental crisis earlier. I had a moment, but we're all good now, and I'd jsut like to reiterate the fact that I love you all a ton and your thoughts and opinions matter very much to me, even if I don't agree with them! Vote, leave kudos, and never stop being who you are! y'know what, fuck everything I just said, dont let anyone tell you what to do!
> 
> (p.s.: be happy)  
> (p.p.s.: rip ozzel press 'f' to ~~pay respects~~ say 'kriff you')  
> (p.p.p.s.: ~~oh shoot my stepfams here i wanted to make this authors note longer but i gtg deal with not fun ppl love u all byeeee~~ )  
> (p.p.p.p.s.: JUST REALIZED I DIDNT REPLY TO THE LAST GROUP OF COMMENTS DONT WORRY I WILL AHHHHH)  
> (p.p.p.p.p.s.: getting a two year old to dress up boy dolls in drag and drawing rainbow pride flags in chalk has got to be the best thing about babysitting my stepsister #gotta-teach-em-young)


	20. Conspiracy Theories and Peace Treaties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the death of Palpatine, there's a peace treaty between the Rebel Alliance and the Empire. Set post-ESB, but Luke, Leia, and Han never go to Bespin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, there. I'm back! I was gone for a hot minute, but I'm back now! Sorry for falling off the face of the Earth. School and the life of an insecure human being (myself) got in the way of writing, but I'M BACK, and hoping to keep doing something every week/two weeks. SO, this is indigo, the peace treaty one! Enjoy, my pretty pumpkins! (I'm very ready for Halloween, can you tell?)

Luke stared through the X-Wing viewport, gazing up at the iron-clad underbelly of the SSD _Executor._ He exhaled once, and shook his hands out, desperate to hide his shivers. 

This was fine. He could do this. 

One month ago, the Empire had called for a peace treaty. It was suspicious, of course, but after Hoth, it seemed warranted. Until, of course, the Rebellion learned that the late Emperor Palpatine had died. The Empire’s PR team claimed he had a heart attack. The rebels thought he was assassinated, most likely by his right hand man. This complicated things. Vader’s demands that Luke be in attendance at the peace talks complicated things even more. No one was certain that the Sith wasn't just trying to snatch Luke up. The Jedi had evaded capture for years, now. He had escaped Cymoon 1, Vrogas Vos, and even Hoth. Still, Vader was obsessed with him. Luke thought the Sith would never stop hunting him. Until, of course, he called for a peace treaty. 

The problem was, no one knew why. 

It could very likely be a coup, Vader attempting to seek more power, and to end the Rebel Alliance once and for all. 

Still, they were hopeful. 

And so, Luke, the Rogues, and a slew of Rebel officers headed to the SSD Executor to partake in peace talks. 

What could possibly go wrong? 

* * *

“All war criminals should be executed,” Madine said hotly. “We lost thousands of good troops to the likes of you.”

Veers scowled back at him. Luke and Leia exchanged a worried glance, and Luke stood up before the General could say anything he’d regret. 

“We can't ask that of them,” he said. “Not if we don't expect them to ask us the same thing. We all killed people on the opposite sides, we were at war! But we aren't anymore. No one else has to die.”

“Commander Skywalker is right,” Vader said. Luke flinched. “It would be exceedingly unwise of you to even attempt to harm my officers.”

The Admiral and the General glanced at one another knowingly. Luke slowly sat back down. He didn't like this one bit. 

* * *

  
  


After the hours-long argument, the trio sighed and stood up as the Rebels and Imperials filed out of the room. “I still don't understand why we have to be here,” Han groaned. 

“I've explained this a thousand times, Han,” Leia rolled her eyes. “You’re a General now. That means you have to partake in things like this.”

“But this is politics,” he whined. “That’s not my area.”

“If I have to be here, so do you,” Luke told him. 

“Why _do_ you have to be here?” 

Luke spared a glance to the elephant Sith Lord in the room. “My presence was requested,” he muttered, hoping the behemoth monster of a man wouldn't hear him. 

“More like required,” Leia whispered. She, too, spared Vader a glance, then looped an arm through Han’s. “Shall we?”

The two left, Luke close on their heels. He was just about to reach the doorway when Vader clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Sit.”

Luke glared at him. “I'm not a dog,” he grumbled. “Besides, I'd be an idiot to let myself be alone in a room with you.”  
  


He tried walking to the door again, but Vader’s hand was tight on his shoulder. “You shouldn't be so self-deprecating. Not when you’re ten times the person your criminal friends will ever be.”

Luke whipped around to face him. “Excuse me?! My friends are-” Any other protests he planned to make were cut off as a chair clocked him in the knees, letting him fall into the seat. “How did you…?”

Vader crossed his arms, hovering over him. “You have much to learn, young one.”

Luke stood, but was sharply pushed down with the force. “Hey!”

“You need a teacher,” Vader told him, circling the Jedi with ease. “Someone to teach you the true ways of the Force.”

“I had one,” Luke bit out sharply. “You killed him.”

“And a quick death it was. Far too merciful for the likes of Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“He was a good man!”

“He was a liar, and a thief.”

“You're wrong.”

“No, young one, _you_ are wrong.”

“Don't call me that!”

“I have the right to call you whatever I want.”

“Who do you think you are? My father?”  
  


Vader paused for a moment, and was interrupted when Leia burst into the room. “Luke,” she said, fixing Vader with a heavy glare, “let’s go.”

“Stay, Jedi,” Vader snapped. “We have much to discuss.”

Leia held out her hand, and after an angry glance at Vader, he lopped his arm through Leia’s and hurried out the room. 

“Han and I just realized you were stuck in here,” she explained. “I came as fast as I could.”

“Thank you,” Luke said, holding back a shiver. He could feel the Sith’s anger as he fled from the man’s grasp.

* * *

“All due respect,” Han drawled in a tone that clearly showed he had no respect, “that’s bullshit.”  
  


“Eloquent phrasing aside,” Mothma said, “General Solo has a point. We simply cannot shut down our military. Thousands of people will be out of jobs and out of homes.” 

“Well then, what do you suppose we do?” Veers demanded. “We can't let your little rag-tag group run around the galaxy. There would be chaos!”

“Sounds fun,” Han shrugged, then yelped in pain when Leia elbowed him sharply in the side. 

“What General Solo _meant_ ,” Leia said, “was that we can't simply let everyone go. Arguably, there could be more chaos if we did so.”

“We shall merge the Rebel Navy with the Imperial Navy,” Vader spoke curtly. “And do the same with the Rebel and Imperial Armies.”  
  


Objections flooded up from all around the Debate Hall, but Leia’s was the most prominent. “What?” she exclaimed. “So you can bring Luke into your little squadron of death-”

“Death Squadron,” Piett coughed. 

“-and torture him? Not a chance.”

Vader’s fists clenched together. “I would do no such thing.”  
  


“Really? Because you haven't exactly shown otherwise.”

“All due respect, Princess,” Veers said, “this is a matter of national importance. Your Jedi isn't a factor in this.”

“You know very well that Skywalker is a matter of national importance, General,” Vader snapped. Leia raised an eyebrow. Across the table, Vader’s Admiral pinched the bridge of his nose. Luke frowned. Well, that was kind of sus. 

“Um, no,” he said, pulling everyone’s attention away from the Sith. “I'm not that important. Merging the navy’s and armies sounds fine.”

Leia shook her head. “But, Luke-”  
  


“It’s fine,” he persisted. “It should work out, right?”

“Well,” Madine snapped, “ _I_ disagree. The _idea_ of working with...”   
  


Luke sighed and zoned out as Madine surged into another one of his anti-Veers rants. Force, those two hated each other. Just the other day, he had overheard Veers ranting to the Admiral about Madine’s outlandish personality. Madine had never hesitated to trash talk the Imperial General, even before Hoth. They should’ve known that bringing the two together wouldn't work out in anyone's favor. 

With a shiver, he felt a pair of searching eyes scanning him. He glanced around the table, only to find Vader’s mask tilted towards him, completely ignoring Madine. Luke looked away quickly, accidentally bumping Leia’s shoulder. 

The princess reached down and squeezed his hand. He smiled back at her. This was fine. 

  
  


* * *

Piett groaned, tossing his cap onto the table beside him. Luke shot him a concerned glance. He had met the man for a moment in the debate hall, but there had been no formal introductions. Still, Luke knew the Admiral of Death Squadron when he saw him. Debating whether or not to speak to the man, he eventually said, “Uh… you alright?”

The man jumped, his hand reaching for his blaster. He exhaled when he saw Luke, and straightened himself up. “Commander Skywalker,” he cleared his throat. “I didn't see you there.”

“Yeah, you seemed pretty zoned out. Are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine.”

“Are you sure? If not, that’s fine. We’ve all had hellish weeks. This whole peace treaty thing is driving us all a bit crazy.”

The Admiral sighed again, this time adding a nod. “I'm perfectly fine, Commander. Though this week has been, as you phrased it, hellish.”

Luke snorted. He leaned against the counter of the Debate Hall Bar, and waved over a serving droid. “Hi!” he said. “Could you get me some blue milk, please? Admiral, would you like anything?”

“No thank you,” Piett replied. Luke raised an eyebrow, and the Admiral sighed. “Very well. Corellian brandy, please.”

Luke laughed, and thanked the droid as it placed their respective drinks on the table. “Just to be clear,” he said, “I know we were on opposite sides of the war, and all, but no hard feelings?”  
  


Piett stared blankly at him, hiding his shock behind a well-crafted mask. “None at all,” he replied. _So long as Lord Vader doesn't space me for speaking to you, that is._

“Good,” the Jedi nodded. “You seem like a good guy. I'm Luke, by the way!”

“I know who you are.” 

“I figured. Still, we were never formally introduced.”

“Oh. Well. Hello, there,” Piett shook Luke’s hand. “I'm Admiral Firmus Piett.”

Luke grinned at the Admiral. “I know. So, what’s wrong? You look like you need sleep.”

Piett wrinkled his nose. “You sound like Veers,” he grumbled, then clapped a hand over his mouth. He was far too tired for Skywalker bullshit. 

Luckily, Luke didn't comment on it. Instead, he glanced around the room awkwardly, twiddling his thumbs. He never knew what to do in social situations. 

Oh, well. If they were supposed to be forming a peace treaty, the least they could do was talk to each other. Maybe hearing from someone on the opposite side would make this… easier.

“I'll just ask,” Luke decided. “Do you have any idea why your Emperor called for this?”  
  


Piett blinked. “We don't have an Emperor.”

“Vader hasn't taken the throne yet?”

“He was planning on placing y-” Piett cut himself off quickly. His filter always came off when he didn't get enough rest. Honestly, you get involved in one tiny treason plot, and you’re unable to sleep ever again. The Force has truly abandoned this timeline. 

“What?” Luke asked. 

Piett sighed again. Well, he couldn't exactly tell Skywalker that Vader had involved him and Veers in a plot to overthrow the Empire, because he didn't want his son to get ~~a boo-boo~~ to get hurt. Instead, he said, “It’s nothing. In complete honesty, no one’s entirely sure why Lord Vader decided to call a truce.” ‘ _In complete honesty?_ ’ a little voice inside him whispered. _‘More like incomplete honesty.’_

“Huh,” Luke said. “Not gonna lie, I didn't believe it at first.”  
  


Piett sighed. “Neither did I. Though, with you Skywalkers running around, I suppose anything’s possible.”

Luke laughed. “You say that like you’ve had to deal with two of us.”

Piett held back the urge to glare at him. _You have no idea._ “Well,” he said, “I've been helping Lord Vader chase you around the galaxy for years now. I've at least had to deal with one of you.”

Luke laughed again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. You helped Vader? You don't seem like the kind of person who would go along with his… antics, I guess.”

Piett bristled at the clear disrespect of his Commander. “Well,” he said sternly, “Lord Vader is abrasive, of course, but he's one of the best men I've ever known.”

“ _Right_ ,” Luke said, leaning away from him. 

Piett cringed as his inner Darth Vader urged him to follow up. “He’s a good leader. He has no tolerance for Incompetence, and the head officers tend to loathe him because of this. Still, the soldiers love him. He's never afraid to ride into battle with them, and doesn't put their lives below his own.”

“That sounds an awful lot like propaganda.”

“Not entirely. Propaganda focuses entirely on one side of the story. I've never claimed that Lord Vader is a perfect man. That would be a lie. No one is. But he’s not entirely a monster.”

“He's a murderer,” Luke said bitterly.

“I know why you think that,” Piett said carefully. (And he did. Lord Vader told him of the lies Luke had been fed. It was all the more reason to handle this with caution.) “But it’s pure ignorance to believe that he has no good side. Look at you! You destroyed the Death Star, didn't you? Still, you aren't an evil person. Don't believe that your fa--err, Lord Vader is, either.”  
  


Luke was quiet for a moment, fiddling with his glass. “I guess you’re right,” he said. “It’s hard to believe anything else.”  
  


Piett sighed. “Yes, well, we’re all adjusting our beliefs, are we not? That’s what this peace treaty is about. Accommodating others, while still meeting our own needs. I suppose we’ll all have to learn to trust in those we normally would not.”

“I've been trying to. After Hoth, things were hard. We lost a lot.”  
  


Piett was silent. He did, too. Veers was never the same after that day. “I understand. Though, you did stand up for the General regardless.”

Luke shrugged. “He's not the only non-evil war criminal.”

Piett snorted. “No, he most definitely is not.”  
  


Luke cocked his head, staring intently at the man. “You would make a good rebel, I think. Have you ever considered treason?”  
  


Piett held back an incredulous snort at his phrasing. “Oh, depends on the day.”

Luke hummed, then glanced at the chrono on the wall. “Woah, it’s getting late. I should probably go, I have a flight test in the morning.”

“Flight test?”

“Yeah, they’re measuring my scores to decide where to place me in the Imperial Navy.”  
  


Piett cringed at the clear discomfort in the Jedi’s tone. Well. It wasn't as if there was any real question as to who he would be flying with. “Perhaps you’ll make it into Vader’s elite squadron.”

Luke’s nose wrinkled, and Piett held back another laugh at the irony. “You should go to sleep,” Luke said. “Clearly you need it if you think Vader would want anything to do with flying with me.” 

“He _did_ search for you for years, now.”   
  


“... to fly with me?”

Piett shrugged. “I've duties to tend to. I'll see you tomorrow, Commander.”

“Wait, Admiral!”

Piett walked off with a smirk. Vader hadn't only searched for Luke so he could fly with the Jedi, but he was perfectly fine with letting Luke panic for a moment. 

It was only fair. 

* * *

Luke hopped out of the flight simulator with a grin. That had gone well, he thought. 

The Imperial on the ground beside the simulator looked impressed. “Second highest scores I’ve seen,” she told him. 

“Really?” he exclaimed, glancing down at her datapad. 

“Sure. Keep it up, squirt, and you’ll be better than Lord Vader.” Luke blinked, and she frowned, glancing up at his head. “You’ve got helmet hair.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I get it all the time..”  
  


Of course, Darth Vader, General Veers, and Admiral Piett chose that moment to walk into the room. Luke frowned, and attempted to straighten out his hair. After a moment, he gave up.

As the trio of imperials got closer, Veers raised an eyebrow at his hair while the Admiral gave it a disapproving glance. Vader couldn't seem to care less. 

“You have done well,” the sith told him. 

Luke shrugged, glancing again at Piett. Maybe the Sith _did_ have a good side. He just had to keep his mind open. 

“Thanks,” he told him. Vader leaned back a little, shocked that the Jedi had given him a polite grin. 

“You still need a teacher, young one. Perhaps I can-”

“No, thank you.”

“Well. Perhaps, then, you’d allow the General to train you in hand to hand combat. He’s quite skilled.”

Luke stared at Veers. Veers stared at him. The man was impossible to read. “I'm good,” Luke said. Veers nodded, and took a small step back. 

“Well,” Vader persisted, “Piett is an excellent marksman. Perhaps you could learn a thing or two-”

“Fine,” Luke snapped. Then, he cleared his throat, and said (in a much kinder tone), “Fine. Will this get you to back off?”  
  


Vader was silent. 

Luke sighed. Well, it was worth a try.

* * *

“So,” Luke said, “I have a question.”  
  


“Shoot the target, then tell me. Don't use the Force, this time, Commander,” Piett chided him. “Don't try to sneakily use your little hand-waving tricks, either.”

“As if I would.”

“I know how you Force-fiends work.”  
  


Luke shot the target, wincing at the blaster bolt on the far side. “That wasn't great.”

“You're getting better,” Piett said, “but knowing how to shoot a blaster without depending on ethereal powers is important. How did you not already do this?”  
  


“I don't know !” Luke whined. “Either way, can you answer my question?”  
  


“Maybe. What’s wrong?”  
  


“Did Vader have you and Veers walk across the entire ship to the flight simulations deck, just to ask to teach me, which neither of you actually wanted to do?”  
  


“No,” Piett said. “He had us walk across the entire ship to the flight simulations deck to ask to teach you, which we _did_ want to do.”

“Why? I'm just a rebel. There's like twenty rebels on this ship right now.”  
  


“Don't remind me,” he cringed. “Besides, that’s irrelevant. You’re Luke Skywalker. We’ve been looking for you for years.”  
  


“You've also been looking for High Command for years.”  
  


“Yes, but they aren't you. Besides,” Piett cocked his own blaster. “I make it a priority to know who’s on my ship, and their abilities. For instance, you can't do,” he shot his blaster, making Luke jump, “this.”

When Luke glanced at the target, he saw a steaming hole in the center. “You weren't even looking at the target! That's masterful.”

Piett spun the blaster around his finger, and hooked it into the hook of his belt. “That’s practise. Work on it, Commander. You’ll get there.”  
  


The Admiral retreated, but he wasn't out of earsight when he heard Luke mumble, “Yeah, but you’re old, so you had more time to work on it.”  
  


“What was that, Skywalker?”  
  


“Nothing, sir!”  
  


* * *

One month later, Luke sighed, and walked into the hangar. He glanced around, looking for the General. Piett had said that he’d been in here somewhere. 

Sure enough, the man was crouched in front of the foot of an ATAT, fiddling with the wires. “Hey, General,” Luke called out. Veers glanced up at him, and waved a screwdriver in the air in lieu of a hello. 

“You’re good with mechanical issues, aren't you Skywalker?”

Luke shrugged. “Sure. Whats up?”

“The head of the AT-AT AT isn't turning right. The wiring is all connected here, and the gear we use to turn the head pulls here, but I can't quite find the problem.”

Luke glanced inside and frowned. “I think it’s further up.”  
  
“Well,” Veers looked up towards the belly of the craft, “then there's only one place to go.”   
  


* * *

“Have you got it, Skywalker?” Veers hollered up to Luke. 

“Yeah!” Luke yelled back. Then, he popped his head out of the AT-ATAT like a porg. “Would now be a bad time to tell you that the last time I was in one of these, I blew it up?”  
  


“Yes, Skywalker. An incredibly bad time.”

“Oops.”  
  


* * *

“I sorted out the wiring,” Luke told him. “You should be good to go.”  
  


Veers nodded. “Thank you, Commander.”  
  


“It’s not a problem, really.”  
  
“Nonetheless, I'm assuming you came down here for something?”   
  


“Yes, actually. A month ago, Vader mentioned something about hand to hand combat. Is that still on the table?”

* * *

Luke groaned. “You’re an awful, awful person.”  
  
“That's harsh,” Veers replied. He took a sip of his water, raising an eyebrow at Luke. “are you ever getting up?”   
  


Luke groaned again, rolling off the gym mat. “I'm too broken to get up.”  
  


Veers barked out a laugh. “The bloody navy and their dramatics.”  
  


He marched over to Luke and hauled him up with one hand. Luke glared at him. “You wound me.”

“It’s combat, Commander. That’s the whole point.”

Luke sighed, and stretched, cracked the bones in his back. The peace talks had ended two months ago. Luke had been living on the SSD _Executor_ for three long months now. He had perfected his shooting (nearly; he still wasn't as good as the Admiral when he couldn't use the Force), and was able to last more than three seconds against General Veers in hand-to-hand combat. Still, though… 

“Remind me why the two of you decided to do this?” Luke muttered. 

“Well,” Veers sighed, “Firmus is incredibly protective of his Lady. For him, I'm sure that’s a big part of it.”  
  


“And you?”  
  


Veers sighed, picking up his fists. “Let’s go, Skywalker.”

Luke sighed. (Mama Mia!!) Here we go again. 

* * *

Luke frowned down at the datapad. “I don't understand.”

“Your father is kidnapping you,” Wes said through a mouthful of spaghetti.

“Please don't call him that.”  
  


“Why not? I mean, Vader hovers, he's always talking about teaching you, he's crazy overprotective… he's practically your father. And, he's kidnapping you. What’s more fatherly than that?”

“What he means to say,” Hobbie cut in, “is that you’re being transferred.”  
  


“But… they put us together for a reason, didn't they? Keeping our squadron together was supposed to make this easier. ”

“Yeah,” Wedge sighed, “but we all know Vader’s had his eye on you from the start. Hey, it’s not the worst thing in the world! You’ve still got us.”  
  


Luke frowned. “When he didn't pick me up right away, I thought he wasn't going to pull me into his squadron at all.”  
  


The Rogues exchanged a heavy glance. “Luke,” Wedge said, “he _did_ kill your father. Are you sure you want to fly with him?”   
  


“Wedge, the whole problem is that I don't want to fly with him!”

“Okay, but he can't get away with anything,” Wes said. “I mean, think about it! Leia would kick his ass to Coruscant if he hurt you, and he knows it. So… maybe this is a good thing? I mean, he _is_ a pretty good pilot.”

“Yeah, Wes,” Hobbie rolled his eyes. “A pretty good pilot, with a penchant for killing Jedi and Skywalkers, both of which Luke happens to be.”  
  


Luke groaned, remembering the first conversation he and Piett had. “I don't like it. But I have to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you’re right, Wes.”  
  


“Exactly!” he exclaimed. “Why would Vader get Veers and Piett to train with you if he only wanted to watch you burn up in a fiery ball of gas and metal? It doesn't make sense.”

“It does if he sent Piett and Veers to spy on me and learn my weaknesses, just so they could earn my trust and become my friends, only to betray me in the end,” Luke said. 

Wedge looked between the two, and blinked. “Wow. You’re dark.”

“Very,” Luke nodded. 

“The outer rim does shit to you, man,” Wes said. 

“Can't relate,” Wedge sighed. 

“Well,” Wes sighed. “It’s not a great place to grow up. It takes away childhoods, families… fathers. But not Luke’s father, because that’s Darth Vader.”  
  


“You have _got_ to stop saying that,” Luke said. “What if people hear you and actually believe you? Are you trying to start a conspiracy theory?”

Wes shrugged. “Have you _seen_ the popularity of the _Executor’s_ holo newspaper? The gossip column is crazy valid. I would _kill_ for a cameo.”   
  


“No, you wouldn't,” Hobbie sighed. “We don't kill people, Wes.”

“True,” Wedge nodded. “We slay.”  
  


Luke snorted. “You're awful.”  
  


Wedge bowed. “Thank you very much, Vader’s son, thank you very much.”  
  


“Not you too!”

* * *

“You flew quite well today,” Vader told him. 

“Thank you.”

“You would do better if you were more in sync with the Force. You are in woeful need of a master. The Dark Side will bring you true power and prowess.”

And, after months of making Aunt Beru proud and calmly turning down Vader's offers with a smile, Luke snapped. 

“Why are you so obsessed with training me?” Luke asked. “What, do you want me to put up more of a fight when you eventually kill me?”  
  


“I will do no such thing!” Vader replied. 

“Then what’s the point? You got the Admiral and the General to train me, you want to train me, you put me in your squadron… what are you trying to do here?”

“I'm _trying_ to give you the best life I can.”   
  


“Why? Why does it matter? Do you feel guilty for killing my father?”  
  


“I am your father!” the Sith shouted. 

Luke frowned, taking a step away from the man. “... what?”  
  
Vader paused for a moment, but then he told him, “Palpatine hid you from me. He told me that your mother died, and that you went with her. I didn't know, Luke, but if I had, you can be certain that I would tear the galaxy apart until you were safe.”   
  


“N...no. you killed my father. I know you did!”

“I did not! That was yet another lie Obi-Wan told you. He stole you from me.”  
  


Luke shook his head. “You said Palpatine hid me from you.”  
  


“They both did.”

“That’s not a good enough explanation. Try again.”  
  


“I am your father. Palpatine told me that I… that your mother died before she gave birth.”

“No. I'm Anakin Skywalker's son. Whatever trick you’re trying to pull here, I don't buy it.”

“Search your feelings, Luke, you know it to be true.”  
  


“You killed my father. You have _no right_ to use my name.”   
  
With that, Luke spun on his heel and left the room, ignoring Vader’s shouts from behind him. 

* * *

Luke glared at the target, pressing his finger to the trigger again, and again, and again. 

What did Vader think he was doing? Did he truly think that Luke would lie back and take it while he slandered his father’s name? Did he think Luke would _believe_ his lies?

Luke was yanked away from his thoughts when a voice behind him said, “Surely Firmus has spoken to you about shooting while you’re angry.”  
  


With a jump, Luke twisted around and shot at the man behind him. Veers ducked, and glanced at the steaming blaster burn on the wall next to him. “Well,” the General said, “I suppose it’s good that you can't aim for shavit.”  
  
Luke dropped his blaster and hurried over to help the General up. “I'm so sorry, sir,” he said. “You scared me.”   
  


“Scaring a Jedi,” Max grunted as he heaved himself up to his feet. “Well, that’s something I can cross off the bucket list.”  
  


Luke grinned at first, then slowly shifted away from the man. “Hey,” he said, “if Vader sent you here to reason with me, you can tell him that I'm not falling for his bold-face lies.”  
  


Veers raised an eyebrow. “I came here of my own accord. I'm quite determined to beat Admiral Piett’s score, you see.”

“He mentioned that,” Luke siad, still eyeing the general with suspicion. “He also said you didn't have a chance in the nine hells.”

“And _that_ is where my dear friend is woefully wrong.”

“Vader really didn't send you?”  
  


“I'm afraid not.”

“Good. At least he's learning to respect boundaries.” Luke picked up his blaster and turned back to the shooting range, only to be interrupted again by the General. 

“May I ask what he’s done now?”  
  


“He was blatantly lying to me, but didn't want to admit it.”  
  


“What was he saying?”

“That he was my father.”  
  
Veers blinked. “Ah. Well. Nothing to be done.”

The General nodded and turned away. Luke watched him go with a frown, and then asked, “What do you know?”

“Nothing, Skywalker. He's already told you everything I know.”  
  


“Then you _do_ know something. What did he tell you?”   
  
Veers sighed, and turned back to the Jedi. “You clearly don't want to know the truth.”

“I already know the truth.”  
  


“Do you?”  
  


“Vader killed my father.”  
  


“Incorrect.”

“Oh, don't tell me you believe his bullshit.”

“I believe the truth.”

“Which he isn't telling!”

“Yes, he--I shouldn't be speaking to you about this. Firmus knows more than I, anyways, and it’s not my pla-”  
  
“The Admiral knew about this?!” Luke exclaimed. 

Veers winced. “I should not have said that.”

Luke scoffed and stomped down the hall towards the bridge. “Unbelievable.” 

“I should _not_ have said that.”

* * *

“You knew and you didn't tell me?” Luke said as he stormed onto the bridge. Piett blinked up at him from the pit. 

“Oh,” he said, the gears turning in his head. “Oh, dear. He told you, then? This isn't something we should discuss in public, Luke.”

“You knew he was planning on lying and hid it from me? Force, why did you even help me in the first place?”  
  
“Lying? Nevermind, I don't follow.”

“You knew Vader was going to lie about being my father and you didn't say anything.”  
  
The bridge officers looked at one another, then slowly turned away from Luke, typing into their keyboards. Piett cleared his throat. “Ah. You think he was lying.”   
  


“You think he wasn't?!”

“Again, Commander, we shouldn't have this conversation in public.”

“Anything you want to say to me you can say to all of them,” Luke motioned to the bridge officers, who just cringed. Piett raised an eyebrow.

“They don't share your sentiment,” he sighed. “Come on, Luke. We can talk civilly about this somewhere else. Do you truly want the whole ship to know your business?”

“It's only the bridge,” Luke said. 

“I find your lack of faith in the gossip column of the _Executor’s_ holo newspaper disturbing.”   
  


“The Officers’ Lounge it is.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“This is obnoxious,” Luke sighed, staring at the wall.

“I agree,” Piett nodded, “but I suppose we should let him have this.” Behind them, Veers rolled his eyes. 

Luke had been willing to take no shit and now prisoners--well, that's not entirely true, Veers and Piett were thoroughly trapped. Regardless, he dragged both Veers and Piett to the Officers Lounge and forced them to tell him everything they knew, or, as he said, ‘Spill the Tea.’

Piett wasn't in the mood for tea, so he had Veers make them hot chocolate. The only problem was… 

“It’s a secret recipe,” Veers ground out. He had instructed Luke and Piett to face away from him, staring at the wall as he heated up their hot chocolate. “You can't just expect me to give it up so quickly. The galaxy would be in shambles.”

“And he says the Navy is overdramatic,” Piett whispered to Luke. then, he jumped as something soft collided with the back of his head. “Did you just throw a marshmallow at me, Veers?”

“Yes, well, you deserved it.”  
  


Luke snickered, and was met with a marshmallow to the back of his own head. “Hey!”

“Don't laugh at your senior officers' pain, Skywalker.”  
  


“But you make fun of Admiral Piett all the time, and he's technically--” he was cut off with another marshmallow toss. 

“That's very different,” Veers explained, walking over to the duo with three mugs balanced on his hands. “I'm allowed to make fun of Firmus.”

“And I, you,” the Admiral agreed, turning away from the wall and taking a sip from his hot chocolate. “You need to be knocked down a peg or two, General.”

“I'm not sure if you're talking about his height or his ego,” Luke said, “but both could use some serious shrinkage.” The General reached into his pocket and lobbed another marshmallow at the Jedi. Luke leaned away with a grin. “Ha! You missed.”

Veers threw another, this time hitting Luke dead between his eyes. “Karma, Skywalker.”

“Yes,” Firmus agreed, “next time don't storm onto my bridge in a needless amount of fury.”

“I'd hardly call it needless. You've been keeping secrets for months now.’

“We didn't have any other choice,” Veer said. “Your father forbade us from telling you.”  
  


“Don't call him that.”

Piett and Veers exchanged a glance. “He's your father, Luke. It’s the truth.”  
  


“It's not. Give me some proof!”

“Well,” Veers grumbled. “I'm hardly one to call on the Force, but don't you know already? Can't you simply… search your feelings?”

Luke crinkled up his nose. “I don't trust my feelings. They always tend to get me into trouble.”  
  
“How do you mean?”   
  


“Well, once I had this crush on a guy on Tatooine-”  
  


“Not the same thing, I don't think,” Piett cut him off. “What does the Force say about all this?”  
  


“I don't think the Force works like that.”  
  


“Doesn't it?” Veers asked. “For all your Fa--err, Lord Vader’s speeches about searching your feelings, I'd have to assume it does.”  
  


Luke shook his head. “The Force doesn't make sense right now.”  
  


“Does it ever?”  
  


Piett elbowed the General, and grinned at LUke. “All we’re saying,” he said, “is that maybe you should consult the mystical energy force you follow. It might help. If all else fails, there's always DNA tests-”  
  


“Which can be faked. Easily.”  
  


“Not if you watch it happen,” Veers muttered. 

“Why are you even considering this? Don't you guys think it's a little weird?” Luke asked. “Darth Vader, having a son? Having a _Je_ _di_ son? It doesn't strike you as odd?”   
  
Veers snorted. “Well, I wouldn't say that. Piett and I questioned the existence of the galaxy when we found out about our Lord’s sunshine son-”

“What.”  
  


“-but we got over ourselves. He had no reason to lie, especially when he overthrew the Emperor for you.”  
  


“He did _what_ .”   
  
Piett cleared his throat. “Oh. Oh, my. You didn't know.”

“I knew he overthrew the Emperor,” Luke snapped, “Everyone does. Just because you’ve all been saying old Palp’s died from a heart attack doesn't mean anyone believes it. But I refuse to believe he did that for _me._ I'm not worth an Empire!”

“To him, you surely are,” Veers grumbled. He had sat through far too many of Vader’s Skywalker-crazed rants to believe otherwise. 

“I'm just a kid from Tatooine. That's it. I'm not worth an Empire, I-I’ve killed people! We’re at war, no one is innocent, I'm not-”  
  


Veers sighed and pulled a flask out of his jacket. “One moment, if you please. This hot chocolate isn't nearly alcoholic enough to get me through this conversation.” With that, he dumped the brandy into the hot chocolate, and took a long sip. Then, he waved a hand. “Very well, Skywalker. Continue.”  
  


Luke gaped at him, but Piett simply raised an eyebrow. “Again? Max, that can't possibly taste good.”  
  


Veers saluted him and chugged down the rest of the mug. “As I’ve told you before, Firmus, I have iron taste buds.”  
  


“Says the man who takes his caf with half a cup of milk and sugar.” 

“I--well. I propose we get back to Skywalker’s most recent mental crisis, don't you agree?”  
  


“Hey!” Luke exclaimed. “It's not a crisis, it's the truth.”  
  


“Well, that speaks loads about your life.”  
  


“General!”

“Commander,” Veers sighed. “Keep in mind that when I joined the army, I did not expect to be pulled into family drama that rivals those dreadful holodramas my son used to enjoy. I only have so much patience, and hearing you lie to yourself for hours on end brings me no joy. The best thing you could do is just… admit that Lord Vader is your father to put us all out of our misery.”

“He's lying!” Luke shouted. “How can you not see that he's lying?”

“He isn't lying, Luke,” Piett told him gently. “He's not.”  
  


Luke shook his head. “He has to be lying. He… he has to be.”  
  
The Jedi sniffled, and shrunk down into his chair. Maybe Vader wasn't lying to him. In that case, Ben had. Everything he had ever been told was a Lie.   
  


His father never wanted him to have that lightsaber. His father never wanted him to join the rebellion. His father never… never felt proud of him for all he'd done. Everything Luke had thought and hoped for the last three years had been a lie. 

The general and the admiral observed him with worried glances. “Luke?” Piett asked. “Are you alright?”  
  


Luke sniffled and shook his head. “He lied,” he sobbed. 

“Lord Vader didn't lie to you,” Veers replied gruffly. He winced at his tone, not meaning to sound so stern. 

“Not him. Ben.”  
  


Piett looked to Veers. “Do you have any idea what he's talking about?” he whispered. 

Veers shook his head. “No clue.”

“Well, fix him!”

“I'm sorry?”

“You have children, you know how they work.”

Veers didn't respond. In his mind, he had failed his own children. What right did he have to parent anyone else’s?

Piett sighed, and scooted his chair over towards Luke's. “You know,” he said, “this situation may be resolved by talking to him.”

Luke laughed bitterly. “I can't talk to Ben. Ben’s dead. My father--my FATHER--killed him.”  
  
Piett bit his lip. Well, Veers was right about the holodramas. Still, though… “I wasn't talking about Ben.”

* * *

Luke stood outside the door of Vader’s quarters, his hand lingering over the control panel. “I… don't know what to do.”

“Well, Skywalker, it’s a doorbell, you ring it,” Veers replied. 

Piett elbowed him. “Take all the time you need, Luke.”

The duo stepped away, leaving Luke outside the door. He sighed, and shook out his hands. Then, he rang the doorbell. 

The door slid open in seconds. Clearly, Vader had felt his presence ages ago. Luke stepped into the room with his hands shoved in his pockets. “Hey,” he said, nodding to Vader. 

“Hello,” Vader replied, clearly uncomfortable. 

“Why didn't you just tell me?” Luke asked. “It would've made things so much easier.”

“You didn't believe me even after months of knowing me. I did not think it would be wise to test your patience at the very beginning.”  
  


“That was probably smart. It’s also bantha poodoo, because you’ve been testing my patience this whole time!”

“I've been doing no such thing.”  
  


“You literally made it a condition of the peace treaty that I be here, then got poor Piett and Veers to teach me when they’d clearly rather be anywhere else-”

“The Admiral and the General would not do anything they didn't already wish to do. Piett has informed me you’ve had this conversation before. When will you stop doubting your self-worth?”

Luke flinched. “Don't change the subject, you… Patience-Tester. Tester of patience.”  
  


“I prefer the title ‘ _Father_ ,’ if it’s anything to you.” 

Luke froze. “Err.”  
  


“My apologies, young one. It just slipped out.”  
  


“As I was saying,” Luke blushed, “you’ve been testing my patience this whole time. You took me away from my squadron, you made Piett and Veers spend time with me-”  
  
“For the last time, I did not _make_ them do anything. They spent time with you on their own volition. I simply prompted them to reach out. Besides,” he added, shifting uncomfortably, “I believed it would be easier for you to adjust should you be surrounded by good people. I knew you would not wish to interact with me right away, but I did not wish for you to be alone.”   
  


“I have my squadron. I wasn't alone, I have friends here too.”Vader was silent. Luke sighed. “Let me guess. You don't _like_ my friends.”

“They are _not_ good influences on you.”

“I-” Luke cut himself off with a frustrated groan. “I don't want to argue, not now. I just… thank you. For caring about me having friends. The Admiral and the General are great. But I wish you’d told me earlier. H… how could you live with me for months and _not_ tell me?”   
  
“It was no easy feat. But now, you know, and nothing will stop us. We shall rule the galaxy together, as father and son, as it always should have been.”   
  
Luke blinked. “I'm sorry… what?”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! Also, it's Halloween. In two weeks. So. What are your favorite Halloween movies? Mine might be Hocus Pocus, but I'm not sure. I also enjoy the Nightmare Before Christmas, but that might be more of a Christmas movie. (Also I may or may not be asking bc I'm 100% planning on doing a fanfic that's based on a Halloween movie soooo tell me your fav movies and I'll try to binge watch all of them [because I definitely need an excuse to watch even more halloween movies])
> 
> Anyways, voting: 
> 
> **(YELLOW)** Luke is a musician (in modern times or in a galaxy far far away? you decide) and Vader learns of his existence through music  
>  **(BLUE)** time travel three shot [first to ANH, then to the clone wars, then somewhere else. not sure where, so pretty please help me pick? I've had a lot of good ideas but I'm still unsure and would love some input!)  
>  **(INCARNADINE)** Rebel youtube, basically, which I wanted to do ages ago but completely forgot abouttttt!  
>  **(AQUAMARINE)** Leia is raised by Vader. probably ends up dark. then, she meets this weird-ass farmboy named Luke SKywalker who seems oddly familiar...
> 
> I hope you liked it! Also, there was no Zev in this. I missed him, but he'll probably be in the next one because I'm a tiny bit obsessed. 
> 
> (p.s.: be happy)  
> (p.p.s.: GUYS IM SO EXCITED FOR HALLOWEEN I KNOW I NEED TO FIND SOME CHILL BUT I HAVE NONE ITS ALMOST HALLOWEEEEEEEEEN ITS THE ONE HOLIDAY CONCEPT THAT MANY PEOPLE PARTAKE IN, EVEN IF THEY CELEBRATE IN DIFFERENT WAYS!!!! I LOVE IT ALLLLLLLLLL SHOOT I THINK MY INNER WITCH IS SHOWING)


	21. Stay That Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke is a pop singer. Vader spectates, and a course of events no one could have foreseen changes their lives forever. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS IN THE NOTE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY. YOU. LOOK AT THIS.
> 
>  **TW:** MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, TORTURE, AND GORE. This is way darker than stuff I usually write. It’s nice and fluffy and crack in the beginning, but the end gets incredibly dark, and there’s really no way to avoid that, because the dark part contributes to the plot. If you’ve read the rest of these you probably know that I’m not usually super dark, but this isn’t light in the end, so please just be wary, cause even my beta wasn’t prepared for what I did and she knows me insanely well so. Tread lightly?
> 
> I’m so sorry BridgeSpider, you suggested this prompt ages ago and it was so much nicer than everything I’m about to do

Luke sighed, tapping his pen against the notebook of flimsiplast in front of him. The words that normally flowed like a strong river had forsaken him; he had no idea what to write. 

With a wince, he slouched back in his seat, and reached for his phone. At times like this, he normally turned it off so he could focus, but he was in desperate need of inspiration. He scrolled past the top news reports (yet another controversy recently hit the media when Emperor Palpatine spent fortunes of taxpayer dollars on a skin-care routine that used the fat of endangered animals to give the raisin- ahem, sorry, _ruler_ hope for better looking skin; everyone knew his attempts were hopeless, but no one other than a few brave news reporters dared to tell him that), and sighed, closing out of the news app. Updates on the Craisin of Coruscant wouldn't give him any song ideas. 

He stood up and walked over to his window, staring out at the sun. In the past year, his career had taken off. He wrote a few hit songs, threw together an album, and went on tour. He’d already passed through four different sectors in the Inner Rim, and was wrapping up the final leg of his tour on Denon. He had performances all night for the next week, and the future looked worryingly grueling. 

At times like this, when stress replaced sleep as a constant in his life, writing was an outlet for his thoughts. But a dark, damning feeling was lingering on the edges of his mind, and the words refused to be written. 

Something was coming. He didn't know what, and he didn't know how he knew, but he knew. And he could ignore it all he wanted, but that didn't change the fact that something was going to happen. 

Luke bit his lip, and reached for his notebook again. He jotted down an idea for a song lyric, hoping that any one of his ideas would lead to a new project. A new distraction. 

His musings were cut off with a knock at the door. He glanced up, and dropped the notebook onto the hotel room bed. He hoped up and jogged over to the door, glancing out the peephole. Biggs was outside waiting for him. With a grin, he undid the lock and opened the door, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet. 

“What’s the verdict?” he asked. 

“It'll be cold as the Emperor’s heart,” Biggs sighed, “but you can still perform tonight.”  
  


Luke pumped a fist in the air, and danced around his room with a cackle. He’d been on tour for a few months, and the most recent stop on his tour, Denon, had been slammed with a cold front the day he arrived. His performance the night before was hardly affected by the cold, despite the open stadium at which he performed. 

“You didn't let me finish,” Biggs said. “You _can_ perform, and the fans will be okay as long as they bundle up, but I don't think you should. You don't handle the cold well.”

“Neither do you!” Luke said. 

“No, but I won't be prancing around in frigid temperatures wearing clothing made mostly of sequins.”

“I don't prance.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Okay, I do, but I'll be fine. Like you said, I'll be prancing. I can stay warm!”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“I'll be fine!”

“You could get a cold.”  
  


“I've dealt with worse.”  
  


“You could get pneumonia.”

“I'll be fine!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” 

Biggs sighed. “Let the record show that this goes against my better judgement.”  
  


“Everything I ever do goes against your better judgement.”

“Only the things that end with you nearly dying.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “We should make sure the vendors have extra hot chocolate and blankets. I don't want anyone in the audience to get too cold.”

If Biggs was planning on making a comment about Luke holding their health above his own, he held it back. “I'll make a few calls,” Biggs said. “We’ll also have to see what we can do about getting you some warmer costumes. I don't think the gold jumpsuit will make it in freezing temperatures.”  
  


“The gold jumpsuit will make it through anything,” Luke said solemnly. 

“Frostbite isn't our friend.”

“Neither is the Emperor, but we still keep him around.”

“Frostbite isn't ruling the galaxy.”

“No. If frostbite was ruling the galaxy, the Empire would be a much happier place.”

Biggs snorted. “I don't think an injury would be able to rule the Empire.”

“But what is Palpatine, if not a massive injury in the face of everything we care about?”

Biggs wheezed. “Luke, no.”

  
  
“Luke, _yes_ .”  
  


“Okay, fine, trash talk the Emperor on an Imperial planet. Go ahead, risk your life, I'll stand over here and clap.”

Luke cackled, and tossed an arm around Biggs’ shoulders (if he had to go up on his tiptoes to reach, well, that's none of _your_ business). Together, they planned out how best to keep the fans at the stadium warm that night, and Luke fell face first into another blissful distraction.

Still, it didn't do away with the strange, worrisome feeling in his chest. 

* * *

“As you can see, my lord, our troops are-” Veers’ presentation was cut off when his comm rang loudly, cutting through the sounds of the conference room. He glanced down at it to see his son’s icon on the holo, and resisted the urge to groan aloud. His and Zev’s conversations had been less than amiable as of late. 

Captain Piett winced, giving Veers a sympathetic frown while Admiral Ozzel simply scowled at the man. At the head of the table, Darth Vader repressed a sigh. “You were saying, General?” he asked. 

Veers declined the comm call with a sharp nod. “Yes, my lord. Our troops are-”  
  


His comm interrupted him yet again, and this time he shut it off with a vindictive glare. “Our troops are-”

Piett’s comm burst to life. He glanced down at it, and sighed, then declined the call. “Terribly sorry, my lord,” he said. “General Veers, my apologies.”  
  


Veers nodded. “Very well. Our troops are-”  
  


Piett’s comm rang again. He declined the call, then shut off his comm without a second glance. He spared the Sith a nervous look, then his eyes darted back to the General, pleading for him to continue. 

“Our troops are inv-”  
  
There was a knock at the door. Vader clenched his fists, and the door slid open to reveal a timid stormtrooper standing in the entryway, a comm in hand. “Erm,” he mumbled, “General Veers? It's for you.”

Veers let out a strangled whimper. “Well, then, _Kevin_ ,” Ozzel sneered, taking note of the stormtrooper’s bright red ‘ _Hello, my name is __’_ nametag, “why don't you relay the message that is _so_ important it was worth interrupting our meeting.”  
  


The stormtrooper gulped. “Uh, I will… make it happen, captain!”

“Are you addressing Captain Piett?”

“No.”  
  


“Then _don't_ call me _Captain_.”

Piett resisted the rapidly growing urge to sink into his chair and pretend he didn't exist. 

Kevin clicked a button on the comm, and Veers took it from him as the transmission patched through. “Zev,” he said gruffly. “What do you need, exactly, that is so important you called me, my emergency contact, and my trooper? I hope you know you’ve interrupted a very important meeting. No one here is incredibly happy with either of us.”  
  


“Uh,” Zev said, “is that an incognito way of saying ‘ _Hey, son, I'm with Darth Vader, don't say anything too treasonous!’_? If so, A+, you killed it.”

“Zev!” Veers hissed. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

“Language. Oh, and bold of you to assume I had one in the first place.”  
  


_“Zevulon!”_

“Oh, no, General,” Vader said menacingly. “Let him finish.”

Veers tensed up. “First of all, Zev,” he said, “don't you ‘language’ me. Secondly, this was incredibly foolish of you. You can't call me when I'm working! This had better be important. If you aren't dying or our home isn't burning, I don't want to hear it.”  
  


“Seriously?”

“Don't you _dare_ ‘seriously’ me.”

“I… fine. I was just asking if you were still coming home tomorrow.”

Veers froze. “Tomorrow?” 

“Did you forget again?”

“Can we _please_ not have this conversation now. We can talk tonight.”

“You forgot. Kriffing hells, Dad, you were supposed to-”

“Language.”

“To quote the greats… ‘don't you _language_ me’.”

“You have no right to-”

“What? Throw your own words back at you?”

“Zev. _Please_. Not here.”

Zev sighed. “Fine. It’s not that big of a deal anyways. I'll guess we’re just off for this week, and I’ll see you in another six months. It’s fine.”

“Zev, you don't understand. The Rebellion is-”  
  


“I know. You’re an army man, through and through, Lord Vader expects a lot from you, I’ve heard it a million times. I'll see you next year, Pops.”

“Look, just… call me later, alright? I get off of work at ten, can we please just-”

“Not tonight. I have plans.”

  
  
“What plans could you possibly have?”

“Kissa’s dragging me to a Skywalker concert.”  
  


Vader’s helmet snapped into focus, staring intently at the comm. “Skywalker?”

“Uh, yeah,” Zev said. “Have you ever heard of him?”

“I know the name,” Vader said. “Who is his father?”

Veers blinked, tightening his grip on the comm. Zev and Vader speaking together brought him undue amounts of stress; Zev didn't handle odd questions well, and Veers wasn't sure that Vader wouldn't be able to strangle Zev from the opposite side of the galaxy. Granted, he would understand the sentiment, if Vader did so. Strangling his child certainly seemed like a worthy pursuit at times. 

“Not a clue,” Zev replied to Vader. “I don't make it a habit to stalk people on the internet.”

“Zev!” Veers hissed. Not only was that rude, it was a total lie. Zev had exes with Spacebook pages, after all.

“Uh, I do know some stuff about him, though. He's a very pop-culture-chique, Gen Z legend, civil-rights kind of dude. His music is pretty good, too, so that works out for him. He’s gotten pretty popular in the past year, this is his first tour, I guess. I don't know of the guy super well, this is more of a Kissa question.”

“Where does this boy come from? What is his full name? Who raised him? What does he know of the F-”  
  


“Woah, there, buddy,” Zev said. Veers scowled. Well, clearly the private academies on Denon were good for nothing. No child should call the Dark Lord of the Sith his ‘buddy’. “Err, Lord Vader.” Well, that was _marginally_ better. “I have no idea. Try as I might, I have not yet been able to achieve the acclaimed title of a Wookieepedia page. All I know is that he’s from Tatooine-”

Vader growled. 

“-his name starts with an L or something-”

“Luke.”  
  


“Yeah, that’s it, and his music got really big in the past few years. He’s also, like, a really sweet person, so that definitely boosted his popularity.”

Vader slowly sat back down, clutching the table like a lifeline. Veers watched him for a moment, then turned back to his comm with a frown. “My Lord,” he said, “if I may continue this conversation with my son at a later date?”

Vader was silent for a second. Then, he snapped, “Captain Piett.”

“Yes, my lord?” Piett jumped to attention immediately. 

“Reroute our course to Denon. We must further investigate this Skywalker boy. There is much we have yet to learn about him.”

If Piett was troubled by the fact that his commanding officer ordered him to stop searching for terrorists in favor of meeting a rockstar, he didn't show it. “Yes, my lord.”

“Veers,” Vader snapped. “Confer with your child, then meet with me. There is much yet to discuss.”

He stood up, and swept out of the room. “Well, what about me?” Ozzel spluttered.

“You,” Vader snapped, “would do well to stay out of it.”  
  


_I can't have the likes of you messing up my chances to meet my child_ , he thought. 

_My child._

* * *

It was an odd concept, fatherhood. Millions of beings throughout the galaxy had pondered it before. Vader himself had done so, if only in another life. But now, here it was, staring him in the face. _It was the happiest day of his life_. And yet, anger and hatred were brewing inside of him. 

Palpatine _lied_. It shouldn't have been a surprise; he was a Sith Lord, lying was his passion. Vader should have known better than to trust the man. Still, he couldn't help but replay Palpatine’s words over and over and over again. 

_It seems in your anger… you killed her._

_You killed her._

_You._

But he hadn't. He couldn't have, if the child staring up at him from the holoprojector was any proof. 

According to his files, Luke Skywalker was a 19 year old boy. His hair was golden, bleached slightly from the twin suns of Tatooine. He was tan, and his bright blue eyes shone in the holo Vader had found on his social media page. Over the past year and a half, Luke had been building up a following. He was a strong advocate for civil rights, and strongly protested slavery and many of the cruel practises of the Hutt Empire. 

He’d done all this, and he was only nineteen. 

Nineteen years Vader had missed out on. Nineteen years of tears and tantrums, cuts and bruises, and scrapes and scars. Nineteen years of a life that Vader had lost. 

And it was all Palpatine’s fault. 

Rage churned inside him as he thought of his master’s treachery. The anger grew and twisted, forming into a new, deeper sense of hatred that Vader hadn't felt since Obi-Wan walked away from his burning body. He _trusted_ him. He trusted Palpatine, and he had been so, so wrong. 

Luke lived a hard life. He grew up on Tatooine- that old hellscape- when he was destined for so much more. His mother was a queen. His father was the second in command of the entire _galaxy_ . And Luke had no idea. He’d grown up poor- a _farm boy,_ according to the holonet- and the only claim to greatness he knew of was his marvelous voice. 

Soon, that would change. With the help of Captain Piett and General Veers (and the man’s admittedly moronic son) Vader would overthrow the Emperor, crush the Rebellion, and give Luke what he’s always deserved. And he’d be damned before he let anyone, let alone a scheming old man, stop him. 

* * *

“So, this is weird,” Zev deadpanned. 

Veers sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Zevulon, I'm begging you, don't make it harder than it has to be.”

“Your boss, the second in command of the entire galaxy, is making me take advantage of my backstage tickets- not even my tickets, my _friend’s_ tickets- to a Luke Skywalker concert so I can stalk him and ask him about his family. It can't get much weirder, Dad.”  
  


“I'm aware of that, Zevulon, but please-”

“What if this Sky-Guy has daddy issues? That’s not the kind of thing I want to spend my Friday night worrying about.”  
  


“Zevulon!”

“What?”

“Just… don't say such things in front of Lord Vader.”

Zev shrugged. “Fine. Whatever.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and gazed out the window, refusing to make eye contact with his father. Veers sighed, and picked up his datapad. He signed off on a couple of documents, distracting himself from the current situation via the most boring part of his job. 

After a while, he put his datapad down, and contemplated his son’s posture. Zev was slumped in his chair, his feet propped up on the seat across from him. He was wearing a green hoodie that Veers didn't recognize, and was fiddling with a string bracelet one of his friends had likely given him. He was no longer staring out the window, instead opting to fiddle with the strings of his hoodie while studying the carpet fibers. He looked pensive, but not quite peaceful. He never looked peaceful anymore. 

“Zev,” Veers said cautiously, “if you'd like to talk about…”  
  


“About what? About the fact that you didn't come back to Denon when your son asked you to, but Darth Vader gave the order and you dropped everything? What does that say about you, Dad?”

“You have to realize-”  
  


“You know, I'm not the only kid with parents in the military. But my friends see their parents way more than I see you. I know you’re busy, and I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but you don't even bother to prioritize your child!”

“You _are_ my priority, Zev, I just-”

“You just have other priorities, too. I get that. I'm not asking to be the center of attention, I just want… something! You’re my father, but half the time it seems like you don't give a damn about me. You never answer my calls, never try to talk to me. You forgot about a visit that we’ve been planning for _months!”_

“Zev, I'm truly sorry. I am. But you have to see that-”  
  
‘“That you don't mean to make it like this? What? That it isn't your fault? Those are bogus excuses. Just because you don't like it doesn't mean you can't change it.”  
  


“I _can't_ change it, Zev. Lord Vader-”  
  
“Don't blame your schedule and hard-ass boss for your own shortcomings!”

“Watch your tongue.”

“What, you don't like it when I insult him? Well, in that case…”

“Zev, don't.”

“Lord Vader is a son of a bantha. He gets his kicks through murder and manipulation, he uses fear tactics to get respect, and he was handed everything on a silver platter just because the Emperor needed a guard dog. Just because he’s got a few morals under his belt doesn't mean I'm giving him my respect.”  
  


At that moment, the door slid open, and the son of the bantha himself strode into the room. Zev gulped, and he and his father rose to their feet. Veers angled himself slightly in front of Zev, and saluted. “Lord Vader,” he said. 

“My apologies for breaking up your lovely conversation,” Vader growled. Veers felt faint. He _definitely_ heard everything Zev had said. His son was dead; there was no doubt about it. 

“My Lord,” he said. “My son is… young, he has no-”  
  


“I did not _ask,_ General, and thus I would appreciate it if you didn't speak.”  
  


Veers nodded. Zev clenched his fists. “What do you want from me?” he asked. Veers elbowed him. “My lord,” Zev clumsily added. “What do you want from me, my lord?”

“I was under the impression that your father had filled you in.”  
  


“He did. I just don't understand why I have to do it.”

“You will do it because Lord Vader has asked it of you,” Veers hissed. 

“Indeed,” Vader said. “You would do well not to question me, young Veers.”

Veers hoped Zev was more likely to listen to a cyborg than he was to listen to his father. If not, they’d both be dead by tomorrow. 

* * *

Luke sighed, and rubbed his arms to get his circulation going. He was decked out in a bright floral suit and black shoes; the first costume of the night. The fabric was thin, but it was more colorful than anything Luke had seen on Tatooine. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to wearing things like it. 

Luke only had three shows scheduled on Denon. He’d already finished his first performance the night before, and was about to start his second. From below the stage, he glanced out into the audience, scanning the crowd. Most of the fans were bundled up in blankets, clutching mugs of hot chocolate and caf. Luke sighed in envy, folding in on himself as he searched for some semblance of warmth.

From behind him, Biggs cleared his throat. Luke spun on his heel, and caught his friend’s smile. “Don't be nervous,” Biggs said. “You’ve done a million shows just like this before.”

“I know,” Luke sighed. 

“It will be fine,” Biggs assured him. “Now, the crowd’s getting antsy. Take a few deep breaths, and get ready. And please, don't fall off the stage and die, you nearly did that last night and I don't think my heart will ever forgive you for that.”

“What, did I give you a stroke?”

“A heart attack, Luke. A stroke is when the brain breaks.”

“Oh. Well, I guess it makes sense that you’ve never had a stroke.”

“Skywalker, if you say what I think you’re about to say…”  
  


Luke hopped onto the rising platform that led to the stage and raised his microphone up to Biggs in a mini salute. “Can't break what you don't have.”

Biggs flicked him off, and Luke stifled a laugh as the platform rose up. He turned his back to the audience and tipped his head back. Allowing for a slight bend in his knees, he took a deep breath in, feeling his diaphragm expand as he let out a deep note. The audience cheered, and a smile unwittingly burst to his face. Some of the discomfort he’d been feeling earlier was still sitting in his stomach like a rock, but he let the tune he sang carry it away. 

This was what he was born to do.

* * *

Zev twiddled his thumbs together as he and Kissa waited outside the stage door. Kissa was buzzing with energy, her breath fogging up the air around them. 

Kissa had been a fan of Luke Skywalker’s from the beginning. She'd had a history with the Hutts, and was no stranger to slavery. The numbers tattooed on her right arm removed anyone’s doubt of her past. 

She was a lavender Rattataki, with dark purple markings across her skin. The black numbers stood out on her wrist, and the scar behind her ear was yet another foul reminder of her past. She’d escaped when she was ten, and had been searching for stability ever since. He and his father had taken her in. His father didn't support slavery, despite his love for the Empire. Zev knew his father had a slight internal battle between his duty and his compassion, but Kissa had been living with them for a year now. That, at least, gave him hope for his father. At least Veers Sr. could see the worst bits of the Empire he so valued. 

Again, Kissa had been a fan of Skywalker’s since the beginning. When she heard he was coming to Denon, Zev thought she was going to burst with excitement. After two hours on the phone, and a week on a waiting list, they managed to snag backstage passes. 

Zev felt like a criminal, taking advantage of it like this. 

There was no doubt in his mind that Vader had ill intent for Skywalker. He was staunchly against the Emperor, and while he’d never publicly voiced his disapproval, most of his fans theorized that Skywalker hated Palpatine with a fiery passion. Zev couldn't blame him for it; Skywalker had seen the injustice that Palpatine promoted firsthand. It was only logical for him to loathe the man. 

Still, Skywalker seemed like a good person. Kissa gushed about him, and the face he showed the public was always positive. Zev felt like a traitor, and he didn't even know the man. 

He tugged on the wire that had been strapped to his chest. Force, he felt guilty. 

“What are you doing?” Kissa asked. 

_“Do not be so blatantly obvious!”_ Vader snapped through a comm in Zev’s ear. Zev winced at the crackle of Vader’s vocoder. 

“Nothing,” he told Kissa, dropping his hands to his side. “Just nervous.”

“Me too,” Kissa sighed. “He's probably going to hate me.”  
  


Zev shook his head. “No one could hate you.”  
  


“He's meeting a ton of people today. He's probably going to forget about us as soon as we walk out the door.”  
  


That, Zev couldn't argue. 

“He's famous. I think meeting a bunch of people he’ll inadvertently forget is part of the process.”

Kissa laughed, and Zev grinned. “I still think you should try to seduce him,” Kissa said. 

Zev blushed. Of course Kissa would bring that up when he had Darth Vader in his ear. “I'm guessing that won't work as well as you think it will.”

Earlier in the week, Kissa (the matchmaker that she was) had decided to find Zev a significant other. His light crush on Skywalker didn't help matters. Kissa didn't know that he had a Sith Lord in his ear, but he was wishing that she did. At least, then, she wouldn't have brought this up. 

Almost immediately, Vader snapped to attention. _“Do_ not,” he growled, _“seduce my son.”_  
  


Zev rolled his eyes, angling himself slightly away from Kissa. “I wasn't planning on it,” he whispered. A second passed, and then Zev’s jaw dropped. “Hold on!” he whisper-screamed. “Your _what?”_

Before Vader could answer, the stage doors swung open, and a pair of fans walked out, giggling to each other all the while. Kissa and Zev were ushered in, Zev stumbling along behind her. 

Skywalker was sitting on a couch, huddled up in a huge blanket. He was still decked out in his gold jumpsuit, but he’d abandoned the matching boots in favor of a pair of bright orange fuzzy socks. He grinned up at them, his nose bright red from the cold. 

He stood up, and abandoned his blanket, holding back a shiver. “Hi!” he said. Zev gaped at him. Luke Skywalker, the Sunshine Child, was Darth Vader’s secret love child. 

He did _not_ have the mental capability to comprehend this. “Hey,” he said, his voice breaking. 

Thankfully, Kissa made up for his lack of enthusiasm. “Hi!” she said shyly. “I'm Kissa.”  
  


“I'm Luke!” he held out a hand for her to shake. Kissa pulled him into a hug, instead.

While Luke and Kissa laughed, Vader chided Zev through his ear comm. _“This is no cause for such a reaction!”_ he hissed. _“Behave like a civilized human, and do not make me look so foolish in front of my own child.”_ _  
  
_

Zev just gulped. He had so many questions. Why must he suffer this way? If Vader could have a child, did that mean he could… no. Who would he even do that with?

Quickly abandoning these thoughts, Zev stepped forward and cleared his throat. The etiquette lessons his father had forced him to sit through hadn't given him much, but if he could survive Finals Week by pretending he had more than two brain cells, he could do this too. 

“I'm Zev,” he grinned, letting a bit of charm flood his features. “It’s nice to meet you.”  
  


“Nice to meet you too!” Luke grinned. “Kissa was just telling me that you took her in.”

“Yes,” Zev confirmed. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Your family must’ve been hard to convince. Denon is a very… uptight area.”

Zev held back a laugh. If that was his way of saying it was flooded with stuffy Imperials, he couldn't help but agree. “It’s just me and my father, now. He wasn't too hard to convince.”

_“Ask him about his family,”_ Vader demanded. 

“So, what about your family?” Zev asked. “What are they like? Are they… uptight?”

“They’re just trying to get by,” Luke shrugged. “My aunt and uncle raised me.”

“His parents died when he was younger,” Kissa explained. Luke looked momentarily shocked, then relaxed. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I'm still not used to people knowing things about me.”

Kissa blushed, and Zev nodded. “That must be hard.”  
  


_“Do not bother with petty feelings,”_ Vader snapped. _“Ask him what he knows of the Force.”_

Zev really wished someone would explain to Darth Vader that Conversations Don't Work Like That. 

He attempted to ignore the Sith’s instruction, but he just grew more adamant. With a frown, Zev asked, “What do they teach you on Tatooine?”

Luke blinked and leaned away, confusion overcoming his features. He looked unsure if he should be insulted. “What?”

“I mean, about the Jedi,” Zev rushed to correct his mistake. “We have to scrounge for information about their history here. We can't find much about any of what they believed in, other than rumors about the Force and things like that.”  
  


“Oh,” Luke said slowly. “Well, we don't learn much about that either. I don't think the Empire wants us to know about it.” Zev winced. _Please,_ he thought, _don't say incriminating things when Darth Vader can hear you._

Unsurprisingly, Luke proceeded to say incriminating things. 

“I'm guessing there's a lot we don't know,” he said. “Who even knows why the Jedi died. Maybe they betrayed Palpatine, maybe they didn't. Historical records are so muddled, it's impossible to know.”

_“Correct him, immediately!”_ Vader shouted. Zev barely restrained a flinch at the holler. _“The Jedi were abominations. They took him away from me.”_

“I'm guessing there's some truth to it,” Zev said, unwilling to go against all of his beliefs. He agreed with Luke. This meeting would have been much smoother if he didn't have the second in command of the Galactic Empire listening in. 

Luke shrugged. “Maybe. Either way, I guess we don't really…”

He trailed off when the man standing at the door made a quick waving motion with his hand. 

“I think our time’s almost up,” Luke said. “But hey, can I get your guys’ comm numbers? I'd love to continue our conversation, Zev, and I'm down to hear more of your story if you want to share, Kissa.”

Kissa and Zev gaped at him. First to overcome her stupor, Kissa said, “Yes, absolutely!” 

She quickly wrote down her comm frequency, with Zev following suit. They handed him their information, and Luke graced them with a smile and a wave as they left. 

Kissa was jumping up and down. Zev laughed alongside her. Well, maybe he’d been more successful in his unwitting seduction than he’d thought. 

He thought this for all of two seconds before reality struck him. He'd just given Darth Vader’s son, a literal sithspawn, his comm frequency, while the Sith Lord himself listened in on their conversation. 

This day could not get weirder. 

As soon as he thought that, Vader snapped, _“That cannot be all the time you have. Go back there immediately!”_

Zev grinned apologetically at Kissa, and motioned to the bathroom. He hurried through the men’s room door, glanced around to be sure that there was no one else there, and whispered, “I can't just go back. That isn't how that works.”

_“You must return and demand more time.”_

“That isn't how that works! If I could go back, I would, but they would just kick me out.”

_“You must do so in my name.”_

“That still won't work.”

_“You would disobey my direct orders?”_

“I am not my father, and I've never claimed to be anything like him. I don't blindly follow orders when I know the outcome won't work out for me. Besides, I gave him my comm frequency, didn't I?”

_“Yes…”_ _  
  
_

“Well, best case scenario, we can set up a meeting and have a more private conversation.”

_“Or you can simply get rid of your little friend now.”_ _  
  
_

“I'm not abandoning her.”

_“Y-”_

“I'm also not killing her.”

_“You are too presumptuous. If you were not my only link to my child, I would kill you where you stand.”_

Zev bit his lip. Again, he held back the questions that were bubbling up inside of him. Why couldn't Vader just talk to Luke himself? Why did he choose Zev, of all rebel sympathizers, to speak to him? “My lord,” he said, taking hold of all the lessons his father had taught him over the years, “once I have a better understanding of the situation, I'll be more suited to speak to Skywalker.”

_“You need not understand. You must simply do as you're told. I will not tolerate such insolence from anyone.”_

Zev recalled his conversation with Skywalker, and thought, _Something tells me that isn't entirely true._ Pushing these thoughts to the side, he took a deep breath and emulated his father’s usual tone. “I understand, my lord. But as the one speaking to your son,” Vader’s vocoder crackled at his words, “I strongly believe these conversations will go over better in private.”

After a pause, Vader said, _“Very well. Wait for him to comm you, young Veers. For your sake, you must hope he follows through.”_

Zev nodded. Well, it wasn't perfect, but maybe he was getting somewhere with the Sith. He'd at least listened to Zev, right? Of course, there were death threats mixed in, but that was to be expected. 

On his way out of the bathroom, Zev bumped shoulders with a shorter man. “Watch it,” the man growled. Zev rolled his eyes and began to walk away. 

_“You must not tolerate such insults to your character,”_ Vader said in his ear. 

Zev sighed. _Insults to his character._ Honestly, this guy. “And what would you have me do?”

_“You must retaliate.”_

“How?”

_“You are physically fit. Ensure that he regrets his actions.”_

“I'm not killing a stranger.”  
  


_“I did not say kill.”_

Zev sighed. _Wait for it._

_“Simply maim the man.”_

There it was.

* * *

“I might murder him,” Zev said. “Or myself. Honestly, whichever happens first.”

Veers sighed. “Zev, no.”

“Zev, yes. I'm tired of this! I spent my entire night waiting for our resident Sithspawn to comm me-”  
  


“Please, don't call the heir of the Empire a Sithspawn.”

“Fine. I spent my entire night waiting for Darth Vader’s secret love child to call me-”

“Force, Zev.”

“-and he _did_ call me, so now I have to spend even more of my time with Darth Vader. Why can't he just talk to Luke himself?”  
  
  
“Do not question him, Zev,” Veers said. 

“Oh, come on. You have to wonder! Why isn't he talking to his own son?”

“I don't know.”  
  


“You’re awfully quick to deny it. You have an idea, don't you?”  
  


Veers sighed. He did, but Zev wouldn't understand. “I don't know.”  
  


Zev rolled his eyes, but dropped the subject. Instead of pushing on, he chattered about some new novel he’d been reading. Veers let his worries go, focusing instead on his son’s ramblings. Sometimes, Zev said things he would never understand, but at times like this, Veers did his best to listen anyways. 

He was worried he'd never have moments like these again. 

It was hard to ignore the imminent danger his son was in. Vader held no love for incompetence, and Zev’s refusal to follow orders would get him killed if they spent much more time together. Veers had an idea why Vader refused to speak to Luke himself, but it was seemingly preposterous to consider. The Dark Lord of the Sith, scared? Veers had to be kidding himself. 

But as he thought about it, Veers could see why he’d be frightened. Luke was staunchly against many of the things the Emperor supported. While Vader was nothing like Palpatine (Veers had learned that long ago), he had a reputation. Luke wouldn't necessarily be overjoyed to learn that Palpatine’s right hand man was his father. 

So maybe it was true. Maybe Vader was scared. 

Some things, Veers accepted that he would never know. 

While Veers and Zev stumbled through the remains of their rocky relationship, Vader pondered his son’s existence, and Luke… well, Luke lived up to his title as King of Nearly Dying. 

* * *

Zev was cool. Luke liked Zev. 

He was also sorely out of practice when it came to dating, and wasn't sure if Zev meant to be flirty or if Luke was just hallucinating. 

Either way, there was something there. Maybe it was all in Luke’s head- that was more than possible- but a few of the conversations Luke and Zev had over their comms rubbed Luke a certain way. 

So when Zev asked if they could set up a meeting before Luke left Denon, he jumped at the chance to see him again. 

Now, Luke was almost regretting it, as he filtered through his suitcase and pondered what to wear. 

After almost half an hour of searching, he settled on a pair of black pants, a grey cable knit sweater, and a pair of Chanel boots. He shot Biggs a text and reminded him of the address to the caf shop he and Zev were headed to. He adopted a pair of sunglasses and turned his face down in order to sneak out of the hotel. It was a good thing he had a knack for getting out of sticky situations; when he didn’t want to be seen, he wasn’t. 

At least, so he thought. 

He stepped out into the backlot of the hotel. It stretched far above him, reaching up into the sky. It was yet another shocking reminder of the world’s structure— Denon was purely a city planet, with skyscrapers reaching up into the clouds. 

Suddenly, the discomfort he’d been feeling for the past week burst up into his mind, demanding his attention. Luke stumbled at the sheer force of it. He’d felt fine only moments earlier, but now his gut was clenched up, his senses buzzing. _Danger, danger, danger._

Luke took a step back, reaching for the door of the hotel. He tugged it sharply, only to realize that it was locked. He pulled out his room key, slid it into the handle, and waited for the light to turn green. 

Instead of glowing green, the light on the door flared red. Luke put his key in the lock again, and was once again denied. He tried another three times, each to no avail. 

On his fifth try, Luke never pulled the key out of the door. 

He never got a chance to. 

* * *

_“He should be here by now,”_ Vader snapped. The anxiety in his voice was unnerving. 

“Don't worry,” Zev whispered, taking a sip of his caf. “I’m sure he’ll come.”

_“If he does not, Veers, it will be you who suffers for it.”_

Zev opened his mouth to reply, but cut himself off when he saw the scene on the HoloScreen mounted above the counter of the caf shop. “I don’t think he’s coming,” he said. 

_“What?”_

Zev stood up, and called out to the woman at the cash register, “Can you turn that up?”

She increased the volume on the HoloScreen, and Zev’s jaw clenched at the message displayed across the screen. 

“Well-known musician Luke Skywalker has just been announced missing after cameras caught him being kidnapped from his hotel in the Upper North side of Denon,” the news reporter said. “While there are no official suspects, many are speculating that Skywalker’s outspoken mannerisms in regards to issues such as slavery and the Hutt Emoire are the cause for his disappearance.”

Zev gulped. “Yeah,” he said. “Luke definitely isn’t coming.”

* * *

“It’s been three hours,” Biggs snapped. “Why don’t you have any results?”

“Please, sir,” the officer said, “we’re doing the best that we can.”

“You haven’t even figured out the license plate of the speeder that took him away! Cameras caught him getting kidnapped hours ago, and you don’t have _one_ lead?”

“We can only do so much.”

“Well, do more! Honestly, even I could do better than you.”

The doors of the Denon Imperial Outpost slid open, and Darth Vader swept in with Zev, Veers, and Kevin on his trail. “We are here to relieve you of your duties,” he said briskly, marching over to the chief investigator. “I will not let such an investigation fall into anyone’s hands but my own.”

“L-Lord Vader!” the investigator exclaimed. “I wasn’t aware you were on the planet.”

“You were not expected to,” Vader growled. “Leave us, now. My men on the _Executor_ will take care of this.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Lord Vader, but we’ve been given orders. You cannot take part in this investigation.”

“Your orders are irrelevant. Who would dare to defy _me?”_

“We have orders not to tell you, sir. You cannot partake in this investigation.”

Vader clenched his hands into tight fists, the leather of his gloves creaking. “And how, exactly, do you plan to stop me?”

The investigator pursed his lips. “Please, Lord Vader. We're just following orders.”  
  


Vader stared at the investigator for a moment. Then, with a flick of his cape, he spun on his heel and marched back towards the doors. “Veers, Kevin,” he snapped, “lets go.”

Veers and Kevin obediently followed after him, while Zev glanced back at the investigator. He glared at the man, then ran to catch up with the group. Biggs’ eyes followed them as they left. With a frown, he turned back to the investigator. 

“You aren't really looking for him, are you?” he asked. The investigator gave him a grim frown, and Biggs scoffed. Before the investigator could say anything, he snapped, “Don't bother answering. I get it now.”

* * *

“You’re just leaving?” Zev exclaimed as he raced after Vader. The cyborg was only a few inches taller than him, so when Zev jumped in front of his path they could almost see eye to eye. “You’re giving up, just like that?”

“You know not of what you speak,” Vader said, brushing Zev away with a light push on his shoulder. 

“Really? Luke is your son, and just because they say they won't let you help look, you walk away? Really?”  
  


“I would not be much help, considering they are not looking at all.”  
  


“I... what?”

“It was obvious from the moment we stepped in,” Veers said. “They aren't putting much energy into rescuing Skywalker. I doubt it’s even on their agenda.”

“Then why did you even try? Why cause a scene and threaten the investigators for nothing?”

“Palpatine must believe we’ve given up,” Vader said as he walked briskly towards their speeder. “Otherwise, this will all be for naught.”

Veers and Kevin followed him into the speeder, and after a moment of hesitation, Zev jumped in after them. “I'm coming with you.”  
  


“Zev,” Veers hissed, “call a cab and go home. You don't need to get involved in this.”  
  


“Too late,” he said, tugging on his seatbelt. 

“Control your child, General,” Vader snapped. 

Veers and Zev shared a glance, and Veers sighed. “Zev…” 

Zev bit his lip, then shook his head and jumped out of the speeder. “Fine.”

“Zev, it’s freezing out here, you can't just-”

“I'll talk to you later, Dad.”

Veers made a face, but he sat back in the speeder and grimaced at Vader. “We shouldn't dally.”  
  


Barely sparing a glance between Zev and Veers, Vader slammed his foot into the gas pedal and sped off, making towards their shuttle. Zev watched them go with a shiver. His coat was thick enough, but it didn't do much to shield him from the wind shear. 

Just when he thought he would be forced to call a cab, another speeder squealed to a stop in front of him. The passenger seat window opened, and Zev leaned down to see Biggs sitting in the front seat. 

“Get in, loser,” Biggs said. “We’re going shopping.”

* * *

“I combed the records of all the death threats Skywalker received in the past six months,” Piett spoke quickly, never one to mince his words. “Not many were legitimate, but two organizations seemed to have a credible interest in his death. The Hutt Empire was the only one with ties to Emperor Palpatine.”

“So the Hutts have stolen him,” Vader growled. “They will live to regret this.”

Piett nodded, and held up a datapad with a map of the galaxy portrayed on the screen. “Tatooine is far away from Denon, but the Hutts have their fingers in pies on planets all across the galaxy. The closest Hutt palace would be on Dandoran. It’s likely that they took him there for hiding, but it’s possible they transported him elsewhere.”

“What do you believe they’ve done, Captain?”

Piett stiffened. “My lord?”

“You spent much time hunting foul creatures much like these. What do you believe they’ve done with my child?”

Piett’s expression was pinched. The reminder of Vader’s relation to Luke was likely an unwelcome one. “Permission to speak freely, my lord?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Considering the Emperor's hand in this, it’s likely that Skywalker has already been killed. If not that, tortured. If not that, he’ll be…”

“Yes?”

“The Emperor can be cruel at times, my lord. It’s… possible that he has Skywalker forced into slavery to shame both him and you.”

Vader nodded, as if hearing something he already knew was true. “It would more than satisfy the Emperor's taste of irony to see my child in such conditions,” his vocoder couldn't convey how his voice quivered with rage.

Piett frowned. Vader could practically hear the Admiral screaming his questions through the Force, but he didn't have time for such things. “Continue to pursue your leads,” Vader said. “We must move quickly if we are to save him in time.”  
  


Piett saluted Vader, then quickly marched out of the room. After he’d departed, Vader slumped against the chair inof his chambers. He fumbled with the buttons, and the droids pulled his mask off, the hyperbaric chamber sliding shut around him. Not for the first time that week, he felt like he couldn't breathe. 

He closed his eyes, blocking out the light of his chamber. Luke’s force presence was missing. Their bond had been on the edges of Vader’s mind for as long as Luke was alive; he'd thought it was just the remnants of the Light Side clinging to him, a reminder of a past best left forgotten, but once he was met with the truth of Luke’s existence, he knew that was wrong. Luke was unaware of the bond, or at least unaware of the meaning of it. But even being on the same planet as Luke, Vader had been able to feel his force presence glowing brilliantly in the Force. He couldn't feel that anymore, not even through the bond. 

Repeatedly, he told himself that the bond hadn't broken yet. Yes, he couldn't feel Luke, but that didn't mean he wasn't still alive.

Still, after finally finding someone that made him have hope for the first time in nineteen years, having that ripped away from him was gut-wrenchingly painful. With a shaky breath, Vader turned his feelings outwards. Focusing on the wispy tendrils of his barely-formed bond with Luke, he directed his thoughts to the future. _He will find Luke alive._

The Force rang true, and Vader sighed. He relaxed minutely, and let himself have hope again. He would find Luke alive. It was the will of the Force. 

Later on, Vader learned that this was true. He _did_ find Luke alive. Oh, what a shame that he didn't _stay_ that way. 

* * *

Piett’s investigation led them in circles. They knew for a fact that Luke spent time in one of the Hutt’s dens, but by the time the _Executor_ arrived, he was gone. It seemed everywhere they went to find Luke, they just missed him. If Vader didn't know better, he'd say Luke was avoiding him. Force, he was glad Luke had never gone through a rebellious phase. He couldn't imagine chasing the boy around the galaxy. 

Eventually, the search led them not to a slave trade ring, but to a small Star Destroyer about half the size of the _Lady._ While the ship was much smaller than the _Lady,_ it’s engines rivaled her speed. 

“Must be a newer model,” Piett grumbled, annoyed that a ship _dared_ rival his own. 

Vader didn't have time for such trivialities. “Do _not_ let it evade us,” he barked. 

After a few minutes of chasing, the _Executor_ managed to catch up to the smaller ship. After a tense comm session, featuring an abrasive Vader, an exhausted Piett, and a catty communications officer, they took control of the Star Destroyer. 

“Should we take the officers on board prisoner, my lord?” Piett asked, clearly opposed to the idea. 

“Not yet,” Vader snapped. “I know who is behind this.”

With a dramatic flick of his cape, he spun on his heel and marched out of the bridge. “General!” he yelled on his way out. “Assemble a squadron to accompany us. Set your blasters to kill.”  
  


Veers nodded, and followed him out of the bridge. Piett watched them go with a gulp. He had a bad feeling about this.

* * *

“You will not take any disrespect,” Veers said to his officers. “While these men may seem to be on our side, we cannot trust them entirely. They have gone directly against the orders of Lord Vader, and they’ve kidnapped an innocent man. We must assume that every officer on that ship means us harm. Are we understood?” He was met with various head nods and mumbles of agreement. He rolled his eyes- they really should’ve just saluted, how unprofessional. He'd have to address that when he got back. At that point, there simply wasn't enough time. “Very well. March on.”

His troopers made their way out the door, but his eyes caught on a duo in the middle of the crowd that didn't look quite right. Their armor was ill-fitting, and their stature was far worse than what was expected. With a grumble, he shouted, “You there!” The duo stopped in their tracks. “Yes, you. Get ahold of yourselves! No proud Imperial Stormtrooper walks like that.”

The two shared a look, then straightened up and marched forward. Veers narrowed his eyes when they realized they were marching on the wrong feet. He opened his mouth to address it, but before he could say anything, his comm pinged. He glanced down to find a message from Lord Vader. “Move forward, men!” he called out. “Lord Vader is waiting for us.”  
  


* * *

“I'm terribly sorry, my lord,” the Captain stuttered, “but we’ve been given orders not to let you take him.”  
  


Vader’s fists clenched. “And who are you to think you can stop me?”

The captain winced, but before he could say a word, Vader tossed his hand and the man’s body flew backwards, colliding with the durasteel wall of the Star Destroyer with a sickening crack. Behind him, Veers winced. 

“Ensure that no one interrupts me,” Vader said to Veers. The General nodded, and the Stormtroopers flooded the cell block. Vader stalked down the hall, following his son’s presence until he reached a door at the end of the corridor. Veers watched him step inside, and once his commander disappeared into the cell, he turned back to his men. 

He opened his mouth to address them, but before he could say a word, one of the Stormtroopers he’d taken notice of earlier stepped forward, making his way towards Luke’s cell. 

“You, man!” Veers snapped. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Going to see my friend,” the stormtrooper called back as he ran down the hall. Veers cursed and rushed after him, taking note of the other stormtrooper following close behind him. 

When he caught up to the first of the duo, he ripped the man’s mask off and groaned. “You’re not a stormtrooper,” he sighed. 

Biggs glared at him, defiance glittering in his eyes. “Really? I didn't notice.”  
  


Veers rubbed his brow. “You are a _band manager,_ it’s far too dangerous for you to be here. Did you not hear my speech about how we can’t trust a single person on this ship? How did you even get here? We left you on Denon.”  
  


“That would be my fault,” the second stormtrooper piped up sheepishly. Veers groaned. 

“Please,” he whispered to himself. “Please, don't be Zev.”  
  


He turned around, and sure enough, Zev was standing behind him with a guilty grin on his face. Veers cuffed the back of his head and hissed, “What are you thinking? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Biggs is his _best friend,”_ Zev explained. “He promised Luke’s aunt and uncle that he'd keep Luke safe. He has to be here!”

“That doesn't explain your presence!”

“You’re the one who cancelled our family vacation. I'm just the innocent son who’s trying to have a relationship with his father.”  
  


“A _rela-_ kriff, Zev. If you aren't the death of me, I don't know what will be.”  
  


“Shut up. You would do something like this, too.”  
  


“I would _never_!”

“Yes, you would. If your friend got kidnapped- what was his name again? Firman? Frederick?”

“Firmus,” Veers sighed. “His name is Firmus.”  
  


“Right. If Frederick got kidnapped, you’d save him.”

“If _Firmus_ was captured, I would be qualified and capable of saving him. I'm not, if you haven't noticed, a 21 year old _child_ .”  
  


“Only on the inside.”

_“Zevulon.”_

“Am I wrong?”

“You- wait.”  
  


“What?”  
  


Veers turned around, and sure enough, Biggs had disappeared. He glared at Zev. “You did this.”  
  


“Please. I'd have to be your priority to actually be able to distract you.”  
  
_“Zevulon.”_

* * *

When Vader finally found Luke, he was not met with a pretty sight. Luke was covered in blood. His shirt had been torn off, seemingly ages ago, and a wide range of wounds were strewn carelessly across his small frame. There were lash marks peeking over his shoulders that reached down his back. His body was torn apart, some of the whip marks leaving only welts, while others cut deep into his skin. They must’ve come from Luke’s time with the Hutts. Vader’s anger magnified. He had experienced the slaver’s whip firsthand; Luke should never have gone through such a thing. 

As gruesome as they were, the welts and cuts were among the lesser injuries he’d obtained. His left leg was snapped at the calf, and each of his fingers were bent backwards. His stomach was such a dark purple that it looked nearly black, a sign, Vader knew, of internal bleeding. The most jarring injury Vader could see though, was not a broken bone or a welt. 

Instead, it was a vein-like burn scar that stretched from his jawline down across his abdomen. The scar was still pink, but Vader knew from experience that it would fade down over time. He knew, because he’d gotten scars like that before when Palpatine struck him down with his lightning. 

He had been here. _Palpatine_ had been here, and he’d fled before Vader could arrive. Oh, it was all clear now. He’d planned this from the start; he had to have been aware of Luke before Vader was. Instead of killing him before Vader knew of his existence, he dragged it out. He wanted Vader to feel as much pain as possible; he wanted the same for Luke. 

Palpatine’s lighting was strong. It had nearly felled Vader more times than he could count; the lightning, along with his other injuries… it didn’t bode well for Luke. 

Blood was pounding in his ears. Again, he looked to the Force. Again, it told him the truth. Yes, he found Luke alive. But he wouldn't stay that way.

Vader sank down to Luke’s side. “No,” he said, his voice breaking. “No! You cannot die. I will not allow you to die.”

Luke coughed. “Don’t think… have… much of a choice.”  
  


Vader growled, and whipped around to the door. Veers had arrived only moments earlier with his son and Luke’s manager in tow. Veers lingered in the doorway, looking between Vader and Luke. His neutral expression poorly masked the horror in his eyes. “Call the medics,” Vader snapped. Veers nodded, and quickly marched out of the room. 

“Let’s go,” he whispered to Zev and Biggs. Biggs just shook his head. 

“No,” he whispered. “This can't be happening. This isn't happening.”

Zev hesitated, then nudged Biggs forward into the room and trailed after his father. “How did this happen?” he asked Veers. “He was in Imperial custody. How did they let this happen?”

As they rushed down the hall, Veers sighed. “There are bad people in the galaxy, Zev. Some of them are on our side. Even you have to know that by now.”  
  


Zev frowned and looked back to the room. “He’ll be okay, won't he?”  
  


Veers didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out his comm and called for the field medic they’d brought along with them. “Dr. Mycie,” he said, glancing back towards the cell. “We need you here, now. He's dying.”

* * *

“Keep breathing, alright?” Biggs said semi-hysterically. “Come on, Skywalker, you’ve been through worse.” Luke’s breathes were coming out in short, shallow gasps. He was holding tightly onto Biggs’ hand as Vader desperately tried to heal his injuries on his own. 

“We need to stop the bleeding,” Vader’s vocoder rumbled. 

“What bleeding? He isn't bleeding!”

“The bleeding is internal.”

“How do you know?”

“I will not explain myself to the likes of you.”

“For Luke, you will.”

Vader glowered at him, but after a moment of hesitation he snapped, “The bruises are growing, he’s short of breath, he’s barely holding onto his consciousness, and-”

Luke groaned. “Biggs?”

“I'm right here,” Biggs said. “Just hang on for a little bit, okay?”  
  


“I'm really tired.”  
  


“Do _not_ go to sleep!” Vader snapped. 

“I wasn't planning on it,” Luke mumbled. “But my stomach hurts.”  
  


Vader looked down at his rapidly bruising stomach with a frown. “His skin is already showing bruising,” he said. “He’s been bleeding for a long time.”

Biggs gulped. “How do we stop it?” Vader was silent. “We can't stop it, can we?”  
  


“Fetch General Veers,” Vader snapped. “Explain to him exactly what will happen if we don't find a medic soon.” Biggs frowned at Vader’s threatening tone, but held onto Luke’s hand like a lifeline.

“I'm not leaving him.”  
  


“Did I give you a choice?”  
  


Biggs glared at Vader, and Vader glared at Biggs. Neither one wavered until Luke weakly squeezed Biggs’ hand. “Y’can go,” he said. 

“I'm not leaving you with him.”  
  


“I'll be fine.”

Biggs looked between Vader and Luke, and stood up with a scowl. “You can't die, Luke.”  
  


Luke whimpered in agreement. 

After Biggs departed, Vader hesitantly grabbed onto Luke’s hand. 

“Why're you here?” Luke slurred. 

“I will explain that to you when you are well again,” Vader said. 

“What ‘f I'm not?”

“You will heal.”  
  


“What ‘f I don’t?”  
  


“Death is not an option for you.”  
  


“No one can... stop… death.”

_Have you ever heard the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?_

Vader ground his teeth together. “There are ways.”

Luke wheezed out a laugh, which quickly turned into a cough. One small cough spurred a coughing fit, and all of a sudden there was crimson blood on Vader’s black gloves. Luke grimaced. “Sorry.”  
  


“Do not apologize, young one.”  
  


“‘M not… young.”  
  


“You have no idea how young you are.”  
  


“Why do you… care? Why’re you here?”

“You will learn in time.”

“I'm impatient.”  
  


“As am I, young one. Believe me, it is best to wait.”

Luke coughed again, and shook his head. “My stomach hurts. My head too. Cryptic baloney...”

“If I told you now, I fear you would forget it, and I would not have the courage to speak the truth again.”

“You’re… Darth Vader. What’ve… you got… to fear?”

“You would be surprised.”

“I’m surprised you’re… here.”

“Why is that?”

“Don't like… Palpatine. When he… had me tortured… didn’t think you’d… jump to help.”

Vader’s grip on Luke tightened. “Sidious will never lay a finger on you again.”

“Don't think… he’ll have the chance. ‘M already pretty much dead.”

“Do _not_ say such things!” Vader berated him. “You are not dying. I’ve only just found you. I will _not_ lose you again.”

“What?” Luke mumbled. “Wha’d’ya mean… found me?”

Vader ground his teeth together. He wasn’t going to tell Luke, not until he was healed. He couldn’t die. He wouldn’t. The Force was wrong, it had to be. 

“Wha’d’ya mean?” Luke repeated. 

Vader looked down into Luke’s blue eyes, tinted red from his lenses, and said, “I am your father.”

Luke’s face scrunched up. “No, you’re not. Y’ can’t be.”

“I am.”

“But… but you’re dead.”

“No.”

“Wh… why didn’t you… come for me?”

“I did not know of your existence. You were stolen from me. If I had known, I swear to you, I would have never hesitated to find you.”

“You… you didn’t leave?”

“ _Never_.”

“You didn’t know.”

“I do, now,” Vader said. “I do, so you cannot die, do you understand? You are not allowed to die.”

Luke swallowed shakily. “Still… can’t… control it.”

“I would control death for you. You cannot go. You _will not_ die.”

“I think… I will. I feel it. I can’t… explain how, but I feel it.”

Vader shook his head. “What you’re feeling is the Force. You mustn’t listen to it. It has to be wrong about this.”

“What's the Force?”

“There is much you do not know.”

“I wish… I could’ve known… you.”

“You will. You will.”

“Father…” Luke trailed off with a smile as his eyes fluttered shut. “I like... the sound… of that.”

“Luke, do not close your eyes. Stay with me!”

“Thank you… for…” 

Before Luke could finish his sentence, he let out a breath of air, and his lifeless head lolled to the side. His Force presence flickered out of existence, and with it, their bond bled away. 

Vader was numb. 

Biggs returned, finally, with Veers family and the medic. They were met with the sight of Vader clinging to Luke’s broken, bloody body. 

Biggs shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, he was fine yesterday. He was happy, he was… no. No, no, no,” he said, over and over again as he sunk down to the floor beside them. “No, no, no, no, no!”

Quietly, Veers ushered Zev away. If he held his son’s arm tighter than normal as he left the scene, well, that was his business. 

In the cell, Biggs turned on Vader. “You were supposed to find him in time,” he said. “If you had never come sniffing around, we wouldn’t be here! Luke would still be safe. My best friend is dead, and it’s all your f-”

Vader was numb. But then, his numbness was overcome by overwhelming anger. With a howl, he tossed Biggs into the wall, leaving his body broken on the floor. _Just like Luke’s._

His anger when Padme died was nothing compared to this. The walls and ceilings bent and groaned, the vents popping as they fell out of place. The cell block came crashing down around them, and one thought blared in Vader’s mind: 

_If my child isn’t alive, why should anyone else be?_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *John mulaney voice* now I’ve thrown them off their rhythm
> 
> Also, I think we might do a temporary break on the voting thing, but I’m definitely still gonna write everything I listed. some of them are further along than others and I don’t wanna set back updating because the one that got voted for most isn’t ready, while the others are 
> 
> (P.S.: be happy)


End file.
